


Wasteland

by brandidy



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men (Original Timeline Movies)
Genre: A/U, AU-Apocalypse, Age Difference, Angst, F/M, Horror, Logan's still a badass, Marie's going to be one, Romance, Time Jump, and definitely smut, probably some smut, there's some sad shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-04-06 06:55:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 42,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14051424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandidy/pseuds/brandidy
Summary: "How was he going to protect her? Could he? Should he? He felt his chest begin to cave in when the realization set in. If she didn't get her shit together real quick, he wouldn't be able to keep her alive. And that is not a fucking option." Apocalyptic AU wolverine/rogue





	1. Small Town

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've actually been writing this story for about two years now as an original piece. However, I kind of got back into Marie/Logan recently and I decided this story could work really well for them both. So, I'm going to shorten it from the original idea to be better suited for a fanfic (it'll still be pretty long). Let me know what you guys think!
> 
> Edit: I changed the first chapter a bit to better suit the narrative I'm going for. Enjoy!

# Marie 

  
I dream of the explosions. The bombs and the smoke. The things that no one expected to come, and that no one expected to survive. It kills me to not remember all of it. Knowing that something could flip my life around so quickly and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it is bad enough, but to not remember everything is simply the worst. 

  
Yet, there are some things I have acquired from other mouths and I have been able to piece together with my own unclear memories. Of them all, I remember the noises of the bombs the most, although I try to forget the shrieks that followed. 

  
The blasts were spread out at first. Quick and simple. But, then it appeared as if the heat got turned up, and soon enough there wasn’t a second gone by where you couldn’t hear a bomb detonate. They tore through the air like bullets, leaving everyone hiding beneath the closest thing they could find. Friends clung to each other and covered their heads, and the ones who didn’t have any people to rely on just sort of dove down and hoped for the best. Then, there was the thing that followed, the savage mu- Wait. 

  
I guess for this to be a good story I should tell you the beginning. How all of my nightmares started that one night in Alabama. 

 

#  **WASTELAND**

# Chapter 1- Small Town 

“For goodness sake, Clarence. How much did you put in there?” Professor Realy inquired with clear irritation as she peeked up from behind her desk, eyes wide with the likeness of an owl. 

  
The boy in question peered back at her through the thick cloud of smoke, his knee digging into the small brunette’s side to his left. Despite her loud yelping at the sensation, he continued as if intending to carve out Marie’s intestines like a Turkey on Thanksgiving. With a firm hand on the desk, feigning courage that was lost on everyone in the hazy room- this was the same guy that had hid under a picnic table for fifty minutes when a squirrel tried to eat his fallen peanuts in the quads- Clarence pulled himself to his feet and cautiously examined the area around him. Marie wearily stood up soon after, coming to the conclusion that if he hadn't exploded into a glorified array of blood and flesh, the beaker on the desk in front of them was done with its previous fireworks show. The thought that he could make great money near New Years was gone just as quickly as it came. 

  
“Two containers full,” he said simply, as if he had done nothing wrong. Yet the students erupted into fits of sighs and groans. Something that the boy was definitely not unaccustomed to being on the receiving end of. 

  
Professor Realy smacked her hand to her blemish-free forehead, coming to her feet. Her once perfect ponytail now disheveled and hanging hard to the left. “It said two cups, Clarence.” The instructor enunciated, making her frustration evident. “Cups, as in the measurement. Not cups as in the actual cup.” She shook her head, then looked up at the clock as her delicate fingers ran over her pristine white lab coat in an unavailing attempt at straightening the rumpled fabric. “Well, you only have about a minute left anyway. Clarence, you stay here and help clean this up.” 

  
“But I have practice-” The red head began to protest, but the exasperated professor silenced him with a single look, sucking the breath right out of his lungs as he backtracked on his previous statement. “-which can wait,” he finished, his head hanging almost to his knees as he walked to the back of the class to grab the broom. 

  
“Indeed, it can.” She stepped forward and began inspecting the charred ceiling with a scrunched nose, when something loud and booming sank through the walls of the classroom. 

  
Students looked up, the shift in mood tangible as faces expressed the switch from laughable anxiety to full blown panic. In seconds, the windows were blocked by broad eyes and pink open mouths, soft flesh pressed against the cold glass in an attempt at catching a glimpse of whatever made the reverberating blare. “It's just an airplane,” the now irrelevant instructor exclaimed more than said, trying to defuse the situation. 

  
Marie’s mind began to race as she considered what this could mean. She had never felt such a deep vibration before, not even in high school when the seniors over took the intercom system to play bass heavy hip hop at full blast in the middle of 6th period. 

  
The room lit up with the light of people’s phone screens, some trying to take pictures of the plane that was already long gone and others attempting to see if anyone else knew what caused this unusual disturbance. 

  
“Phone's up!” Professor Realy shrieked, her voice breaking in the middle of her last word. It was to no avail, everyone simply too apprehensive to listen. “Now!” she cried, trying to gain control of the situation. Her hands shook, face bright red. She was a tea kettle ready to blow. 

  
The bell rang, signaling the end of class, and just like that, she was back to her prim and proper self, her face void of all frustration she had felt less than five seconds before. Perhaps she would have had a better chance as an actress than a college Chem professor. 

  
“Don't forget about your exam Monday. Have a good weekend, and Elliot,” she pointed at the boy who was beginning to walk through the door to leave. “Actually study this time.” 

  
The boy nodded, then rushed out, hitting Marie’s shoulder. Worn out books with scratched out writings on the covers fell to the ground, spiraling out around her in a circle. And in less than a second, she had been converted into the nerd trope in a 90’s teen movie. 

  
“Hey, asshole!” Marie hollared, but he was already gone, disappearing into the abyss of hyped college students trying to flood the front doors like a crack in a dam. She had no doubt that the only thing she’d hear about for the rest of the day was that noise. 

  
Knowing her small town, the rumors that were bound to spring up around it were endless. From aliens to nuclear warfare, this town had no shortage of imagination. 

  
… 

## Logan

A loud slap on the counter beside him drew Logan from his internal musings. Looking off to the right, he noticed the not entirely uncommon sight of his colleague Joseph taking off his stained black apron, tossing it onto the counter with little regard, and stepping from behind the bar.  

  
Before his feet were able to spread more than shoulder length apart, Logan had leaned across the counter and caught his attention. “Your shift ending?” Logan asked, suspicion and a hint of amusement soaking his voice like the dishes Joseph left in the sink in the back.  

  
Joseph grinned back at him, crooked piss yellow teeth doing better than any commercial to scare kids from sticking a cigarette to their lips. “Not yet. Just taking a quick break.”  

  
Letting his own rag glide smoothly over the counter, doubling back to remove some fallen residue from the night before, Logan sighed. “I’ve told you once, I’ll tell you again. I’m not picking up your slack. And besides,” Logan’s hand started to drift then, like a lion on the prowl. Both pair of eyes watched the wayward hand with interest before it finally pounced, knocking a glass off of the counter and landing with an almost splash of shards in front of Joseph’s feet. “Someone needs to clean that up.” 

  
The man threw his head back up, a vicious glint in his eyes. “What the hell, Logan?” he screeched.  

  
Logan turned, organizing some glasses with an echoing clink. “Either you get your ass in gear or we find a new bartender. Plenty of college kids around that’d be more than happy for the cash.” 

  
“God damn it,” Joseph grumbles, slipping back behind the bar and tying on the black apron, sharp thin fingers seizing the broom with vigor. “It's not like we're busy. Why do you have to be such a pain in my ass?” 

  
That only drawls a chuckle from the taller man beside him. “Take it as me doing you a favor,” Logan gestures to the small pack now hanging loosely out of Josephs front pocket on his shirt, forgotten. “That shit’ll kill you.” 

  
Joseph’s pinched up face becomes even more drawn in, his lower lip nearly engulfing the chapped upper one in his attempt at a smile. With the thin hair on his head slicked back against his waxy transparent skin, he looked at least twenty years older. “Well,” he chirps as he scoops up the rest of the glass, still holding it in his right hand when he turns around and shrugs a shoulder. “That’s what I’m hopin’ for.”  

  
After a moment of silence that has Logan wondering about the man’s mental health as much as physical, they both have a boisterous laugh; Logan clapped the man hard on the back, not completely oblivious to the groan that leaks out before rotating on his heels to finish up. 

  
“Kill yourself on your own time, son,” a scratchy voice calls out from the front of the bar. Logan recognizes it immediately but doesn’t pay the man much attention, instead continuing to run a different rag through the hollow insides of the freshly cleaned glass cups. “Logan,” the voice calls out again, the attitude behind it different now.  

  
He didn’t need to hear another word to know that the news wouldn’t be pleasant. Logan had been exposed to that tone of voice from his boss before, and he’d be god damned if it didn’t mean trouble. Once he peered over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of his boss, his assumption turned factual. It was so clear; In the way his mouth was pursed slightly, lines of his forehead drawn together in an “M”. In the clench of his fist around what Logan was sure was the baseball cards he brought his son after every one of his t-ball games. Logan hoped the kid won tonight, his dad was starting to get less and less enthusiastic every game. Hell, it was even in the way his hair was styled, or not styled. If you ever needed to know exactly how the man was feeling, look at his hair. “I need you to come in tonight at eight.” 

  
Damn. 

  
It wasn’t that Logan could complain. He made decent money from this job, mainly the tips kept him happy and the hours were usually pretty flexible; and God help his wallet at the end of the night if it was a Friday cage match. But, lately it’s been hard to find loyal employees that wouldn’t skip out as soon as there was a sign of trouble- which was becoming increasingly more common in good ol’ Lamarck’s. They’d had six true bar fights that weren't in the cage in the last two weeks, and Logan hadn’t been there every time to stop the bastards before there was significant damage.  

  
When the going got tough, the employees got going. It was becoming more and more clear that no one was willing to put themselves on the line for a job that barely paid above minimum wage, and the part of him that wasn’t pissed that he would be working more hours that night understood. Of course, the other part was grumbling about ‘lazy bastards’, upset that he’d made a promise to Carl that he’d stick around because the man had helped him out in a tough time. But Logan was nothing if not a man of his word, so he bit through the hindrance and smiled. 

  
“Eight? I'll be here by seven.” Logan’s smile turned to a grin at the way Carl’s eyebrows narrowed, before checking the watch on his wrist and seeing that his shift had ended over twenty minutes ago. Grabbing his keys, he lay his own apron out on one of the shelves in the back room. When he made it back into the main area, Carl tried to muster a stern look that wasn't any tougher than a pup. Logan couldn’t keep himself from patting him on the back and failing to fight back his laughter.  

  
“I'm serious. Take a break from the ladies or whatever it is you do in your spare time, and make sure you get here on time tonight.” Carl whirled back around, glancing at the empty sitting area, a critiquing look in his gaze.

It was just past three, this was nowhere near a busy hour. Still, they did have regulars and not a damn one of them had shown up. “I don't pay you to forget to set your alarm.” 

  
Chuckling, Logan waved off Carl’s uncertainties. “Quit your bitchin' pops, you know I’ll be here on time. See ya' tomorrow, Carl.” Swiping one finger over a table while walking out, Logan smiled up into the bright sunlight.

The sky was blue and there wasn't a cloud in sight. The grass still damp from the past week of non stop rain, bright green in the much needed sunlight. His hands fell to his hips, looking up just in time for a jet to soar through the sky above. 

  
The noise roared, and his head rotated rapidly as the building began to shake and shudder, giving the slight impression that it may fall. The thought quickly left his mind as Logan recalled how it survived Hurricane Frederic in ’79 and everything that had been thrown at it since.    

  
A box of empty bottles fell to the concrete behind him, making him jump a little and spin around.  

  
“God damn. What on Earth was that?” Joseph asked, walking out of the tin building to stand beside Logan, who only sighed. Joseph smelled of sweat and stale beer, partially ruining the calm feeling that the world had slowly began giving off again. 

  
“An F-22 maybe?” Logan finally responded, bringing his tanned hand to his forehead to block out some of the penetrating sun as his eyes searched for the plane. Yet, there was nothing but the clear blue out there. No sign that the plane ever made an appearance. 

  
“That's a fighter jet, yeah? The fuck is it doing here?” The short man asked, his eyes flickering all over the sky before they came to look at his colleague. 

  
Logan reverted his gaze to look at him too, taking in the splash of soap mixed with old food that goes from the underside of an armpit to just below a rib, deciding not to tell him about it before shrugging. “Maybe they're just testin' the thing,” he offered helplessly before turning around and raising up the fallen box. “Clean this glass up, would ya’? I gotta get home and mow before it gets dark out.” 

  
“Sure thing, Logan,” Joseph responded, already kneeling down when Logan lifted his hand slightly, flicking his wrist to him before changing directions and leaving for the day. Thick brown boots kick up some dirt on the concrete and while looking down, he noticed something funny. The flowers that usually line the road were brown, sitting crumpled on the ground. 

  
Flowers die, Logan rationalized. But, all of them? In twenty-four hours?   

  
Since when do you give two shits about flowers? Since... Well, he doesn’t. There's more important things than flowers, His mind reminded him, followed by an eye roll because he had to tell himself something like that. Or that I have to tell myself anything at all. Can't be healthy. 

  
Logan averted his gaze to focus on more important things, like where the hell his truck was. 

  
Spotting it in the parking lot, he gave a verbal sigh of relief until he realized he had parked it farther away than usual. “Shit, Logan. What were you thinkin',” wishing he had decided to fix his truck's air conditioner. It's not like I don't got time for the damn thing, it's just that I keep forgetting. 

  
He didn't remember parking so far away, though. Logan always tried to get on the first row, and by try, that means he is always on the first row. Since he’s one of the first one's here, why would he park on the last? You're being paranoid. 

  
“Howlett!” 

  
His body nearly shot to the clouds as it reacted to gut instinct, swinging around with a carefully trained elbow, hurling Joseph down in the process. He stumbled back, completely losing his footing until Logan quickly grasped his upper arm, catching him only inches before his head gruesomely met the curb.  

  
There Joseph sat, the back of his head hovering above the scorching concrete that was warming his head even from the distance between, as Logan stared blankly down at him. 

  
“Sorry, I didn't mean-” he began as his mind registered the terror in the eyes beneath him. 

  
“You could have killed me, man!” Joseph shouts, shoving him hard in the chest. Logan doesn't respond, or even fully look at him. I did almost crack his head open. “Whatever. I was just coming out here to bring you your keys,” he said, pulling them out of his pocket. 

  
That caught his attention. Sure enough, when Logan reached into his back pocket, the keys are gone. “Did you take 'em from me?” 

  
Joseph tilted his head to the left making the taller man feel like a moron, still holding his keys in his left hand, dangling them like he was trying to calm a child. “No-o? You left them on the back shelf.” 

  
“No, I grabbed them. I'm sure of it,” he corrected him, unaware of the rumbling growing in his chest.  

  
The other man just laughed, tossing the keys at Logan’s dark button up shirt. “You're losing your mind, old man.” Then he left Logan's mouth open, keys hanging off his fingertips. Maybe he was right, maybe Logan was just losing his mind. 

  
When he’d finally prepared to turn around and get in the truck to go home, he found it less than ten feet ahead of him, parked on the front row. Somehow the air seemed thicker, making it harder to breathe while a cold breeze blew up his arms through the sleeves of his shirt. “Alright, who is it? Joseph?” Logan shouted to the air, hand held out in front of him with his calloused palm facing the open sky. “Neat trick. Now, can we stop this bullshit?” But there was no reply. “If I catch one of you, I'm gonna kick your ass for touching my truck.” He continued walking to the vehicle while realizing the flaw in his logic. He hadn't heard it being moved. 

  
Groaning, Logan opened the thick metal door of his dark blue pickup. The seats were hot enough to fry on, and the compressed air inside was enough to make a man feel like a rotisserie chicken, but he started her up anyway and got on the road, when another, less loud, jet flew above. This can’t be right. This was a small town in Alabama, nowhere near a military base. 

  
To the right, there were three women on the side of the road talking rather loudly and gesturing to the sky, not one under the age of sixty. 

  
“Excuse me, young ladies,” Logan said as he pulled over, wiping some of the sweat from his brow. “You wouldn't happen to know what the story behind these planes are, would you?” 

  
They all turn, some getting a bit flustered. “Sorry, sweetheart. You're just as clueless as we are,” one replied, running her hand through her aging hair. 

  
“Maybe it's a sign of the end,” another, who looks much older, mentioned in a hushed tone. Logan laughed, nodding. 

  
“Maybe you're right,” he responded, looking up. 

  
Another one wearing a sundress hushed him quickly with her hand. “Don't go feeding her fantasies, son,” she seemed to have said more to herself than to him. This started an argument among them, each one bickering about their own reasoning for what they believe in- Routine launch, getting ready for a war, another country’s jet. Another glance at the sky reminds him of his tall grass, and he knows that he needs to get home. 

  
“Well, thanks anyway, ma’am. You all have a nice day.” After a quick wave, his arm rested on the outside of the truck window, pulling back into his lane. 

  
Another jet flew above as the tires finally scratch the loose rocks on his driveway, and when he looked out of the open window quickly, the fading sound registers some buried memory. That's definitely a fighter jet. But, what the hell is it doing in Alabama? His boots hit the ground, the door slamming shut beside him, sounding like it was miles away. He knew his mood was beginning to darken. Wasn’t even aware of the bright sun shining, dark clouds shadowing his awareness. 

  
“Hello, Logan!” A chipper female voice called from beside him. He blinked and turned, seeing his neighbor, a blonde woman in her late forties. And where there was Annette, there was- ah, there it is. That god damn look in her eyes. Made him feel ten years younger and ten times more weary. 

  
“Afternoon,” Logan responded, waving as he walked over to where she was perched on the porch swing. Her knees tucked beneath her like a teenager with gossip on the peak of her tongue. “How are you?” 

  
Annette’s smile grew almost cartoonishly with each step he took towards her. “Never better,” she stated with her hands under her chin. “Are you going to be mowing today?” He was tempted to ask how she knew, when she continued. “It's Tuesday,” she told him with a hint of mischief in her eyes, but her voice sounding casual, taking a sip of what he assumed was iced tea. Long Island Iced Tea, of course. 

  
A laugh fell from his lips as he looked down. “So it is.” Logan had fathomed she was real fond of him, but he didn't think she had memorized his mowing schedule. Looking back up, he tried not to seem uncomfortable. The women around here liked to ogle and feast their eyes upon whatever they could. Calling them out on it would just cause a further hassle. “How's Marie?” He asked in a subject change. A preferred one. 

  
Annette bit her lip, nodding. “She's great. She'll be turning twenty soon.” 

  
“That's great,” he said, catching himself smiling. “She's doing pretty well in school, right?” 

  
Annette grinned at the thought of her daughter. “Oh, yes. She's always been the smart one of the family." Logan somehow didn't doubt that. "Me and her brother are so proud of her.” 

  
He’d nearly forgot she had a brother. “He’s in Sacramento, right?” 

  
“Yes.” Annette sat down her glass of tea, and Logan watched as water trailed down the side and began to puddle on the wood table beneath it. “He should be coming in today, so maybe you'll meet him?” Annette took another sip, and Logan nodded. 

  
“That'd be real nice.” And he meant it. He liked talking to Marie when he could, she was a nice girl, always good to her mother and sweet to everyone else. She had spoken of her brother with Logan before, once or twice slipping up and saying she'd like for the two of them to meet. Logan didn't think it was such an awful idea, despite his usual disinterest with mingling.  

  
Logan recalled the first time he had the pleasure of meeting the young brunette girl. She had still been in high school then, came home every day at 5pm because of some after school activity. But that particular day was different. She came home in a blur, bike racing around the curb with fingers like damn vice grips. He hadn’t known what on earth was making her fly like a bat out of a hell, but the expression on her face told him it’d be a mistake to ask.  

  
He didn’t know much about her then, just that she was his neighbors sweet daughter. Sweet and extremely young.

  
_Eyes focused on her puffed up red face, he didn’t notice when something crossed her path on the broken pavement. She ripped the handle bars to the side to dodge, resulting in her flying off the sidewalk and sliding along the concrete several feet into the road. His feet were in motion without hesitation, sprinting full force to her side, rake abandoned in the middle of his yard._  

  
_“Hey kid, are you alright?” He gripped her shoulders, turning her gently towards him. She was bleeding, he knew that much. The rest of her injuries were hidden beneath her clothes._  

  
_The girls glossy brown hair hung over her face, blocking her expression from view. “Is it okay?”_

  
_Hell, was she that worried about her bike? “Don’t worry about that, we just need to get you cleaned up.” He sighed, hand resting on her upper arm. “I’ll fix any damage to your bike.”_

  
_She shot up then, standing wobbly on her two feet. Logan was up just as quick, steadying her. “Not my bike! The chipmunk! Is it okay?” The passion in her eyes shook him deep, leaving him speechless. Then hers fell to the ground, guilt flittering across her cheeks. “I almost ran over it. I could have killed it.”_

  
_And then for the first time in months, Logan had smiled._

  
_“Yeah, kid. I think he ran off into the grass.” He couldn’t help it then, his smile was wide and goofy as hell, but it just wouldn’t stop. She nearly broke a bone from a bad crash, and she’s worried about the chipmunk that did it to her. Logan could almost feel his teeth begin to hurt, she was so sweet._

  
_Her hand fell on his, which was still located on her upper arm. “Thank you for coming to help me. I was just so upset, I wasn’t even paying attention to the road in front of me.”_

  
_“What’s got you so upset?” After he asked, he wish he hadn't. Logan wasn't exactly the friendliest guy, so he knew that if it ever came to him finally making a friend in the place he'd been living for three years, it sure as hell wasn't going to be with a damn high schooler._

  
_Still, a small part of his interest was piqued to know the answer. Curious to know what could get this innocent girl so angry, Logan disregarded the tension in his own hands._

  
_“It was just a guy at school,” she shook her head ruefully, as if she just realized how silly she had been. “He… Uh, well he did something I didn’t want him to do, and got angry with me when I told him not to.” Her fingers were ringing together, not wanting to look Logan in the eyes. That was probably for the best because suddenly, he was feeling like busting a few heads together and was sure his face showed it. Not exactly because of Marie, but because he couldn't stand the thought of some teen boy out there forcing himself on a girl when a good ass kicking could fix him right up._

  
_“Your boyfriend?” his voice spoke out, not considering the way it could be misconstrued by a young girl._

  
_She took a step towards him, eyes wide. “God, no! He’s just some jerk at school who likes to treat me like a piece of meat.”_

  
_Logan realized what he was doing then, digging into a high school girls love life that was frankly none of his fucking business. The girl was probably extremely uncomfortable because of it, she was just too nice to tell him so herself. Paralleling her earlier movement, he took a step away from her, shutting out the irritation he was feeling at the kid she was talking about. “You should kick his ass.” If Logan wasn't a grown adult, he'd already have kicked the boys ass half way to Canada._

  
_She laughed then, scrunching up her nose and shifting her eyes away from him, a strange look he didn't bother analyzing crossing over her features before dissipating. “Yeah, maybe I should,” she was smiling at him now, bright white teeth with a cute gap between the front two on full display. And then, like an anchor dropped on his head, the entire situation was unnerving. They were at least two feet apart, but Logan felt like there should be a football field between them. He should have just stayed on his lawn and let the kid pick herself up. Now that he’d actually met her, it was obvious that they'd get along, and that would only make life harder. And not just for him. “I’m Marie D'Ancanto, by the way.”_  

  
_Despite his doubts about the whole damn situation, that drew a smile out of him. Marie. It was a pretty name. Suited her, she seemed kind. “Logan Howlett.”_

  
_“Logan,” she tested the words in her mouth. “That’s nice.”_

  
_“Listen, kid.” Kid. How old was this girl anyway? Fifteen? Maybe sixteen? Definitely a kid.. “If that dick gives you trouble, don’t feel bad about kicking him right in the-“_

  
_“I got it!” She shouted, hands up in the air. Her cheeks were flushed bright red, reminding Logan of just how innocent this child was. As if the backpack and handle bars with tassels (Jesus fucking Christ, she wasn't that young) weren’t making it clear enough. “That’s… What I did today, actually,” the guilty look was back on her face full force, but in it was a hefty mix of pride._

  
_Well damn if she wasn’t a little spit fire. Logan nodded approvingly, this time able to conceal the smirk. At least, mostly. He couldn’t help but feel his own slice of satisfaction at her actions. He may not know her well, but it was quite the relief to know she could take care of herself. Plus, the thought of her lowering the boys chance at procreation wasn’t exactly displeasing._    
_Instead, he settled for a quick pat on the shoulder, tearing his hand away before it could be socially unacceptable. “If he’s smart, he’ll stay away from you.”_

  
_“If he has to be smart to make that decision, I wouldn’t hold my breath.”_  

  
_Yeah, Logan definitely was going to get attached._   

  
Annette leaned back and howled in laughter, momentarily catching him off guard. What the hell had they been talking about? “He'd love you. Matt was always friends with men like you.” 

  
Oh, Marie’s brother. Logan leaned on her railing now, splinters pricking at his skin through the fabric of his shirt. “What do you mean, “men like me”?” he questioned, tone a bit harsher than intended. 

  
“Older,” she said first, looking down at him. “Quiet, strong, someone who'd be reliable.” Her eyes flickered to the upper right, as if she were remembering something. “You remind me of someone, Logan. Someone who I miss very much.” 

  
His curious smile fell then as he knew exactly who she was talking about. Marie had told him small details about her father. One of which was the reason why he wasn't here with her and her mother. “I'll see you later, Annette,” he voiced quietly, pushing back from the railing to head towards his lawn mower. 

  
“You should come to the party!” Annette shouted, jumping up and grinning brightly with pleasure at her idea as her hair flew around her in the wind. 

  
He lifted his hands and shook his head. “Oh no. I wouldn't want to crash chi-Marie's occasion on her big day or anything. I'm sure there will just be friends and family, and I'll probably have to work-”   
“Don't be silly! Marie loves you. You are practically family!” She insisted. 

  
He struggled with the urge to stop her. Annette had no idea how Marie felt about him. She had never been around much for Marie, and Logan just couldn’t see her being a likely candidate for Marie to tell her feelings and secrets too. He'd know, as she'd been using him as a personally diary for years.  

  
Besides, it would probably embarrass the girl to have him hanging out with her mom while the rest of her young friends gather around and eat cake and ice cream. Not to mention how uncomfortable he would be. 

  
“I'll check my work schedule and get back to you,” Logan promised. And it was true. He would check his work schedule and see if he could ask for a shift for that day, and if not, he'd go. After he was sure Marie was okay with it first. 

  
Speaking of, she would be getting back from class soon. 


	2. Hurt So Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marie is hurt, Logan is angry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've actually been writing this story for about two years now as an original piece. However, I kind of got back into Marie/Logan recently and I decided this story could work really well for them both. So, I'm going to shorten it from the original idea to be better suited for a fanfic (it'll still be pretty long). Let me know what you guys think!

# Chapter 2 - Hurts So Good

## Marie

Marie mentally chastised herself for even considering confronting the guy who pushed her to the floor. She had to learn that the world wasn’t how she wanted it to be. The hero doesn’t always win, and things aren’t black and white.  

  
That being said, he was still an asshole. 

  
She’d always been taught to give people the benefit of doubt with a dollup of forgiveness, but despite her best effort, Marie couldn’t help but feel a tinge of anger. Knowing she was harboring a grudge put her in a worse mentality than the original assault. So, trying to wrap her head around anything that could make her feel better about herself, she managed to pull all of her belongings together in a huge jumbled mess, balancing everything just right so that her things wouldn't take yet another dive to the floor. Marie’s hands slowly began to numb with each step she took, fingers wrapped awkwardly around pages and pencils to be able to get out of everyones way until she could put them all away. This was mainly her fault for not properly putting them away in the first place. When she walked through the threshold, her nerves were so screwed that she managed to drop her notebook without the slightest realization. 

  
“I know Calc is annoying, but I don’t think you’ll be able to pass without notes.” 

  
“Huh?” Her head spun around so fast that her foot forgot it was supposed to be stepping down onto a stair. She watched in slow motion as papers flew passed her head, a sense of déjà vu slamming into her like a freight train while her hands flung out in front of her to catch her fall. However, it was not enough to keep her knees from scraping against the concrete. 

  
She knew there would be blood, but that didn't mean she wanted to see it. She stared down at her battered hand, the blood starting to come to the surface of the new wound. Marie felt her stomach began to shrink, pushing her breakfast from that morning up her throat. Her eyes focused further, catching the sight of her torn up knees. It looked like digital effects in a movie where the blood spot gradually gets larger until soon it’s hard to tell what color your pants were in the first place. 

  
“Do you do this often?” She looked up at the girl before her. She must have seen the green in Marie’s face because she stepped forward to get a better look. “Holy shit, are you okay?” 

  
Marie decided to focus on the first question, instead. It was the million-dollar question. Why was she dropping everything? Had she suddenly become some clumsy mess of a girl that couldn't even hold her own books? Did she somehow know what was going to come only days later and it affected her in advance? That was something Marie would ponder for many years to come. 

  
“To answer your question, no,” she responded with a smile, hiding that she was snatching up a rather worn out book of hers that had rather embarrassing writings on the inner cover before this other girl could. “I try to be a teensy bit conservative with who I show my clumsiness too.” 

  
Marie took in the girl before her after that. She had hair the color of tree-bark and skin that was naturally tanned. Marie’s eyes adjusted a bit more, and she noticed the girl smiling, making her eyes crinkle up at the corners. Her eyeliner was on a bit thick, but she didn't seem to mind it, so neither did Marie.  

  
“I'm Anita.” Something clicked in her mind; a rumor that Marie had learned to ignore and not take for facts swimming to the forefront with armor and canons, prepared to cease and desist any attempt at stopping it. But Marie smiled politely, not giving the battleship of gossip permission to pass into free-thought territory. 

  
It clicked that her hand was sort of just limply dangling in front of Marie’s face like a chicken on a wire, fingers slowly fading into limp eyes that somehow saw right through every little façade Marie had placed before herself before coming to class today. Like a gunshot, Marie’s ears were ringing as she realized how mental that thought truly was. Looking up into Anita’s eyes, it was clear she wasn’t the only one. Her hand still swung slightly back and forth, waiting. Seeing as how she had stuck it out for her to shake upon introduction, and Marie had very disrespectfully ignored it. 

  
“Marie,” she responded in a forced bravado that sounded like a superhero trying to be modest. All that was missing was the spandex and cape. Or maybe leather? Marie had always preferred leather. Anita raised a darkened eyebrow, but let the mishap slide nonetheless as she laughed it off. 

  
She reached down and grabbed the last text book that appeared even more beat up, then handed it back to Marie. “Where do you live? Do you need a ride?” 

  
“Oh no, thank ya though. My mother would have a cow if she knew I was riding home with a stranger. Especially if I had to leave my bike on campus.” Wait, would Anita think her mother was rude? “I mean, she just cares about me.” And her bike. “I’m sure she’d like ya though!”

  
“You're really… Southern,” Anita laughed. “And pretty strange, too.” 

  
She sat there for a moment trying to find something to explain why she was awkward. A way to blame it on the off-ness of the day in general, but soon realized that only her body was being effected by the day, not her words. That part was 100% Marie. “I know.” She finally relinquished, exhaling enough air to make the trees sing.

  
Anita nodded, her eyes squinting a little as she let her shoulders fall. The gesture was almost hidden beneath her large brown leather jacket. “Right. Well, I'll let you get to your bike.” She spun around as her hair fanned out behind her. Marie watched as she headed to the student parking lot. “Maybe I'll see you around some time,” she called back. 

  
“You too!” Marie responded almost instantly, then shoved her face into her hands. “That didn't make any sense, Marie,” she began scolding herself, reaching for the handle bars of her bike. She heaved the mess of books into the basket on the front- the one that makes her feel like an eight year old- forgoing her backpack entirely as she wasn’t up to the task of organizing the mess anymore. At least it didn't have the tassels (Marie’s mom let her remove those last year when she finally put her foot down and told her it was either the tassels or a new car). 

  
Her bike slid along the driveway as she came to a stop, blaring music her daddy raised her to, a bitter sweet feeling in her heart as she sang the lyrics.

  
Sensing a disturbance in the noises she was hearing through the headphones, she perked up to the world beyond the small one she had created for herself. Her eyes sought out the perpetrator, and soon fell upon a familiar face as honey met a field during harvest. Her neighbor, Logan, who was old enough for her mother to have a crush on, but not old enough to reciprocate, was outside seemingly just finishing up mowing his lawn. Marie watched him like a gaping fish for much longer than what could be considered casual gazing before realizing he was speaking to her. 

  
“Hmm?” She asked, and when she see noticed his flinch, it became clear that her voice must not have come out as quietly as intended. She hurriedly ripped out the ear buds, ignoring the anticipating she was harboring to hear him. 

  
“-train?” His deep voice called out. 

  
“Can you repeat, possibly, everything you've said since I got here?” The question was quickly followed by an embarrassed tomato-glow on her face.

   
Logan lifted his hand, chuckling a bit as he brushed through his short facial hair. “I'll skip over the insults,” he teased with a grin that flashed his bright teeth. “I was wondering why you didn’t hand out fliers to the concert you were just putting on.” 

  
As if her face couldn't get any redder. Had she known she’d been singing obnoxiously loud? No. Was she going to let him know that? Of course not. “That'll be ten dollars, mister,” she responded, hand held out and an expectant look accompanying. 

  
His eyebrow lifted, and his eyes strayed over her with doubt. “What for?” 

  
“I don't do free shows.” Her hand was still held out as her foot lifted, gently swinging around to twist behind the other. 

  
And then he laughed. Don’t get her wrong, it wasn't the kind of laugh you could listen to all day. It was a deep, hard laugh. One that would take time getting used to, years even. And still, it’d send a jolt of surprise through you until the day you die. For your own health, you might not want to listen to it daily.  

  
But, it was his natural laugh, and Marie hardly got to hear it, so she just smiled back at him and let her body memorize every second. 

  
She had begun moving her bike towards her house, almost half way up the sidewalk when he called to her. Glancing over her shoulder, he said, “what happened to your leg, kid?” By the look on his face, Marie could see he was about as unhappy with her clumsiness as she was. 

  
Casting her eyes down to the russet color of her jeans and then back to him, she shrugged. “I fell down some stairs, but I’m okay.” Before she even finished her response, she could see the gears in his head turning as he planned something. Planning wasn’t a common trait in that impulsive man. She followed his gaze to the ever so present blood stain on her leg, unsure of whether he was going to call a doctor or amputate it himself. Neither would surprise her. 

  
Logan was a fairly unreadable man- unless the emotion was anger. Then he was very readable. But otherwise, it was infuriating to Marie. Especially when her mother would send her to his home to ask with the most southern hospitality that she could accomplish if he would be so kind as to come over for dinner. Her mother was so caught up in her lust for the hot neighbor that she couldn't see Marie’s growing anger with the simple task. It had nothing to do with him, although she wasn't sure how she'd feel with him being in the same room with her and her mother- now that would truly inspire some discomfort. It'd had happened a handful of time before and always left her with something bitter lingering at the back of her throat. Something about the way her mother looked at Logan made Marie’s stomach turn and knot. 

  
But, it wasn’t Logan’s fault she got mad when she tried to invite him over. It pissed Marie off because she'd show up at his brown door with a broken doorbell just to the right of it- not because he couldn’t fix it, but because he hated the noise. In fact, Marie was almost sure that he had been the one to break it in the first place. Then she’d raise her hand, pitched to knock. No more than six seconds after the first time her knuckles rapped against the door (she always counted), the hairy man would open it and peer out at her. She’d ask, “Would you like to come over?” and even though he has yet to say yes a single time, his eyes still show such...Dubiousness of the situation and what he is going to say. So, she’d give him a moment to think about it, every time being fooled once again into thinking he may actually grace their home with his presence. 

  
Around town, there's gossip about a time Logan was in a poker game with the Mayor and a few officers of his old town. He allegedly won the game with flying colors when he told the mayor about how he was upset he was going to lose his trip to Las Vegas, and the mayor immediately believed Logan, not calling his bluff, only to be utterly defeated by his royal flush. She doesn’t quite believe it, but if he told her himself, she'd have to accept it as the truth. 

  
Finally, she saw some sort of decision being made in his stoic facial expressions which swept her former thoughts right out of her head. He turned away from her and took off like a deer who’d dodged a bullet between the eyes. 

  
“Where are you going?” she asked with great distress. His only response was to hold up his index finger, rushing into his home. Was she supposed to wait there?

  
Despite being a teenager (although not for much longer) whose strongest nature was towards rebelling, Marie couldn't find it within herself to disobey his wishes. She instead found herself holding onto his fence, leaning heavily towards the side as warm liquid continued to rush down her throbbing leg. The wind was blowing, whipping her long dark tresses around like a maniac in a weird shampoo commercial, cooling the area of her foot where the blood had decided to begin to pool between flesh and shoe. If he took too long, she may just end up a human version of a deflated pool toy. 

  
Small tan fingers were gripping the cool metal as she looked at his house, waiting for the man to emerge. 

  
This time, she felt it before she heard it. Like a car that’s bass was up too loud, the ground began to quake beneath her. The same deafening sound from earlier enwrapped her, then. He eyes barely caught the plane slicing through the sky before it was gone, leaving its sound traces echoing throughout the countryside. It gave an intimidating impression, something that you’d see in a military commercial trying to get recruits.   
That was when she heard his heavy footsteps, a comical contrast to what she had heard not ten seconds before hand. 

  
“Now will you tell me what you're thinking?” When her eyes found his, he was already closer than he had been before he left. She opened her mouth to ask what the hell he was doing, but he had knelt before her, touching the knee of her pants. The noise that ended up coming out resembled that of a screaming fox. 

  
“I'm gonna have to cut these,” he spoke in an abrasive voice, pulling a switchblade out from his back pocket. Marie yelped, seeing as how he had given her no time to oppose before he tore the jeans just above the mangled cut. 

  
“I liked these pants,” she grumbled, stumbling a bit until once again leaning back on the fence, holding on for dear life as he began to tear the bloody jeans from the tender flesh. She had known before it happened that it was going to hurt, however she had no idea how much. In fact, when he started, she screamed, stopping him to make sure he wasn't ripping off her skin instead of just the cloth. 

  
“I’ll buy you new ones,” came his response, his usually stern voice filled with restrained laughter. And if she wasn’t in some intense pain, she’d have slapped him in the back of his thick head for it. 

  
She was on the verge of crying when something icy was thrusted into her stomach. Her hands grabbed out before she could get her eyes on it, but when she did, she almost threw it at his head. In her hand was a bottle of Four Roses Bourbon. 

  
Instead of clonking him on the back of his skull with it, she just stared down at him with what was likely the most childish expression ever plastered on her face. She didn't know why he had given it to her, and her confusion was evident. 

  
“It'll help with the pain,” Logan told her, not even looking up. The man knew her too well. She winced as he got the final piece of fabric off, the bottle still in her hand.

  
“How about I just knock myself out with it instead?” She jested, but with enough seriousness to make Logan be more delicate with his hands. When Marie’s eyes opened, they were a bit blurry from the tears.

  
“If you drink enough of it, you might do just that.” Although the tears soon cleared, Logan was still stooped before her. However, this time he was looking at her, watching while he continued his well-intended assault on her wound as she stared down at the bottle with a look of distaste that was marred by untouched trails of salt water. “You're acting like you’ve never drank before,” he informs her in a condescending tone, not making her mood any better. His comforting skills were severely lacking. 

  
“That's because I haven't,” she spat back at him, mustering all of her rage into that short sentence in the hopes that she wouldn't scream out from the pain. He had used a less than soft rag to clean up the blood, and the flesh was horribly sore. It was as if she could feel each and every rough piece of the material scraping against her skin like fishing hooks in an extremely active lake. 

  
Logan stopped what he had been doing, eyes finding hers once more. If she didn’t hate him at that very moment, that would have been a perfect entry for her nonexistent diary. “Don't bullshit me. You're nineteen. And in college.” 

  
Once again, she had the urge to hit him over the head, but this time her instincts were out for blood. “Community college. And I’m not _bullshitting_ you.” After mentally praising her own ability to keep calm, she opted for looking at the intricate design on the glass bottle, tracing over each strange formation with her fingertips, taking pleasure in the cool surface that had begun to sweat into her palm. “Don't get me wrong, sugar,” she replied, unscrewing the cap and watching some of the condensation drip from the bottle and onto one of Logan’s bent knees. “I would have. The opportunity just never presented itself.” The tip of the bottle was almost to her mouth, she could feel the cold air wafting over her lips, when he yanked it back. “Hey!” 

  
He stood up with a sigh, holding the bottle just out of her five foot four reach. She grabbed for it, but the bastard was about a foot taller than her and at least sixty pounds heavier. “I’m not gonna be the one to give you your first drink,” he said, somehow being okay with tearing her leg open, but not giving her a swig of alcohol. 

  
“Why does it matter? One way or another, the alcohol is still going down the hatch. Why does it matter if this is the first or the thirtieth time?” she yelled, slapping him lightly on the chest. Her body had moved into the action, but he had stepped away, making her go farther than estimated. Next thing she knew, her knees were bent awkwardly, red and bloody skin tearing even further. A lightning bolt of pure agony wracked her body. This time, she was unable to bite back the scream that tore through her like a wave crashing into rocks, legs buckling beneath her and falling forward, triggering a huge mess.  

  
Glass shattered, blood dripped, and Logan transitioned from hard biker, steely cognac eyes, and taut neighbor to gentle teddy bear like a light switch, sputtering apologies as he held her up. 

  
Her small hands were on his shoulders, his right arm slung around her waist, his left hooked under her shaky legs to keep them straight, and her entire body was sat over his lap. Over and over again in a matter of seconds, she had to fight off the insecurities that barraged her mind. She wasn’t exactly small other than her height, had always fought with body issues. Not overweight by any means, but not skinny either. And here she was, being held so tightly to the guy who was more Grecian god than man.  

  
Her face was burning beneath the surface with the heat of a thousand suns, serving to only make her more embarrassed, but she soon saw no reason to. His eyes were covering all appropriate surfaces of her body while checking for fresh wounds, not paying any attention to her inner turmoil.  

  
It was then that she discovered his brown eyes had little flakes of gold. 

  
“Are you alright? That was god damn stupid, Marie. All of that over some alcohol? I promise you, kid, it's not worth it.” She didn't expect him to sound so irate, it sent a shiver down her spine and halted her need to argue. Logan never got upset with her. “Look, I’m going to finish patching you up so you can go on home to your mom,” he said, accurately making her mother’s face pop in her mind, removing any growing feeling she had formerly been entertaining for her rough-and-tough neighbor. She finally glanced down to see that Logan was looking away, brushing off some of the broken glass before sitting her down on the concrete. He took her right leg and looked at it intently before putting the gauze over it. “Shouldn't need stitches, but it's going to scar.” 

  
“What about you?” She asked, and he looked at her like she had just shoved a burning log in his face. “You cut yourself on some of that glass,” she gently reminded him. 

  
The look her gave her told her he had no idea what she was talking about, which was sweet. He had been so preoccupied with her that he hadn’t even felt the pain of his own wound. He glanced down at his calf where, sure enough, some blood was starting to seep through his own jeans. 

  
“Aren't we a pair?” She began laughing about the similarity of their situations. 

  
He shrugged, picking up some of the rags he used earlier. “I'll live.” 

  
Marie nodded, no words leaving her mouth at his change of mood. He stood up, then held his hand out for her. There was no hesitation as she reached up, grasping it. 

  
“Thank you. For... This,” she shyly gestured down towards her leg, prepared to find him still not in the mood to talk. The man didn't dissappoint. His eyes were emotionless as he nodded, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. She saw the hint of a tattoo on the inside of his arm near his armpit, one she had never seen before. Something legible. Numbers perhaps? 

  
“No problem, kid,” he told her with a hint of a smile, his tone finally going back to the playful one he had earlier. “Go on inside.” He gripped the bottom of his shirt, walking towards his garage as he pulled it off. “I got some business to tend to.” 

  
“You're a tease, Logan Howlett!” She told him after taking a minute to get over the sight. She could hear his deep chuckle echoing from his garage as she allowed it to follow her all the way into her home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it? Hate it? Preferably not the latter? Let me know!


	3. Wild Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quiet family dinner, and a big decision for Marie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've actually been writing this story for about two years now as an original piece. However, I kind of got back into Marie/Logan recently and I decided this story could work really well for them both. So, I'm going to shorten it from the original idea to be better suited for a fanfic (it'll still be pretty long). Let me know what you guys think!

# Chapter 3 – Wild Night

## Marie

The living room was a mess, which was a never a good sign. Annette had a tendency to tear things apart when she was distraught, her fingers like little paper shredders creating confetti, but instead of joy, there was just a lingering sense of dread. There wasn't a time in her life that Marie didn't remember her mother's razor fingers. In fact, she distinctly remembered the time that her father's parents were supposed to come over for Christmas when she was seven years old. Her grandmother and grandfather had been being awfully rude towards her mom, the exact words lost in Marie's innocent mind- although she did recall at least one of the words having been on her mother's no-no list- but the general idea of it was that they didn't like Annette. The anxiety that tore through her mom only served to make her look worse in her grandparents eyes, because when everyone came downstairs Christmas morning, the presents that had been so delicately packaged lay strewn about the floor around her, slivers of paper and cardboard doing nothing to conceal the presents young Marie had been anticipating.

Marie didn't know then what she knows now, however. How even the slightest bit of criticism from one of her children would send Annette into weeks of depression. She never really had an explanation for it, but ever since Marie's father died six years ago, it had gotten worse. She'd wake up in the middle of the night, and her mother would be sitting in the hallway, legs tucked beneath her and her hair in a rats nest, ripping up pieces of paper.

Removing herself from her memories, Marie found her mom a few minutes later in the next room, sitting in front of the window in the kitchen and gazing out of it like a school girl in love.

"What are you doing?" Marie asked, breaking the quiet.

Annette jumped back, placing her hand over her heart. "Jesus, Marie! Give me some warning next time." Her daughter ignored her, brushing passed to see what she was staring at. There, she saw Logan raking his back yard, skin glistening in the sunlight. The man clearly had no earthly idea that Annette was looking at him like a rib-eye steak. If he did, he would no doubt put a shirt on. He may have been God's gift to women, but Marie liked to think he wouldn't gift himself to the woman that gifted her to the world.

She turned to look at the older of the two with disapproval. "He's not a piece of eye candy, momma."

Annette sighed, brushing her blonde hair off of her shoulder as she tried to sneak another peak out of the window. "He knows what he's doing."

Excuse me? Marie didn't think that was a good reason. "You should be ashamed of yourself, saying an excuse like that! Even if he's aware of himself and chooses to not cover it up, it doesn't mean you should be making googly eyes and cat calls at him through the window." Marie also felt something unnameable within the confines of her lower stomach, but didn't ponder on it.

"My little daughter, the ever so moral Marie D'Ancanto." Her hands went up in the universal 'giving up' way, and she spun around so that she could prove she was done looking through the window.

"Besides, shouldn't you be getting ready for Jax to get home?" Marie asked, watching as Annette reached behind her daughter, lowering the blinds.

A snort then left the woman as she rolled her eyes, wrinkles being stretched out momentarily on her aging face before sitting down in a chair beside the messy table. "His name is Matthew. That's the name I gave him when I gave birth to him." She took a tip of tea that left a shiny ring on the stained wood. "Your daddy is the one who decided to give him that middle name." Marie felt a pang of hurt pierce through her heart at the casual mention of her father, but she continued before much thought could be lost on it. "And he called an hour ago. Said his superior called him and he won't be able to come home until Sunday." Sucking in her breath, Marie's pulse began to chug in her chest as a painful knot started to twist. She hadn't seen her brother in nearly four years. "He also asked me to tell you that he's sorry, and that he can't wait to see how your hair has grown out," she said with a chuckle.

Marie groaned loudly, absentmindedly fingering her hair. The night when Jax cut it hit her full force, and soon, she was laughing too. It had looked like she had handed a child the scissors instead of a nineteen year old man. "That son of a-" she said under her breath.

A hand slapped her on the arm, and Annette was glaring at her daughter with disapproval. "Don't call your brother that," she chastised, and Marie leaned to press a quick kiss to her cheek, smiling innocently.

"Sorry, momma." Her feet turned and aimed back towards the living room when Annette questioned her destiMarieion. "Why don't I go and clean up the living room, and you get started on dinner?" Her mother agreed, allowing Marie to continue her path.

She was fluffing the last pillow to place on the couch when she heard the high pitched call of her mothers voice beckoning her in for dinner. Marie realized her mistake in allowing her mother to oversee the food. That was usually her job, and for good reason. She stared nervously down at the pasta that held an eerily black tint. Macaroni n' cheese and stuffed mushrooms that resembled more of smothered camp fire. Damnit.

They sat down opposite of each other, each painfully mindful of the empty seats on either side, one of which should be filled now, and the other would never be filled again.

"How was school?" She asked, stuffing a bite of mushroom into her mouth. Marie stared her down while attempting to gauge the level of horror her tastebuds were going to receive from taking a bite, but she didn't crack in the slightest.

Sighing, she scraped her fork around on the old, blue, glass plate. "Clarence Thomas blew up my chem class." She supplied, pushing aside a hard macaroni.

"Oh? Well, we know what career he's aiming for." Annette said, reaching for her nearly empty glass of wine.

Marie nodded. "Suicide bomber." She finally took a bite, promptly wishing she hadn't. There was quite the generous amount of salt to cover the singe, but despite the contiguous extinction of any wetness in her mouth, she swallowed it. Annette didn't notice when her daughter gasped, snatching her water from the table. "His parents must be so proud."

Annette lifted her fork, pointing it towards her daughter as her blonde hair slung over her right shoulder. Unlike Marie, her brother also had blonde hair, but to Marie, their mother's had always seemed so much brighter. Jax's was practically brown now that she thought about it. Not quite to her level, but dirty blonde didn't seem to cover it anymore. "You know, his father used to be a waiter down at Buddy's."

She did know, but she didn't want her mother to have any reason to get angry with her. "Oh, really?"

"Yes, really. And his mother was a shop girl in the eighties." She added like a gossiping housewife.

She once again sighed, looking passed the radiant blonde hair and out of the window that she remember closing, but was once again open. "I guess it runs in the family." Marie said distractedly, wondering if Logan knows she was panting like a dog in heat while watching him.

"What?" She asked.

"Short lived careers."

Her mother stopped chewing for a moment, then it hit her. She began laughing, then she laughed so much that she had to grab a napkin to wipe her eyes. "You're awful!" She cried out, taking another big swig of wine, successfully emptying the glass.

Marie smiled back at her, chewing on the too salty food with pride. It was a good joke, wasn't it?

But the fun could only last so long before Buzzkill Bob decides it's his time to shine.

"Listen, Marie." The pit of her stomach dropped. She could tell what words were going to leave her mother's mouth before they even protruded in a quick spat of badly memorized scripted lies. "I'm going out tonight. The girls want to go check out this new restaurant in Mobile." All lies. The only girls her mother knew were Brandy and Martini. "I'll be home later, so no need to wait up."

By that, she meant she wouldn't be home until tomorrow, and even then she'd probably be crawling through the door, tonight's dinner on her pants and shoes, wallet empty and eyes hollow with numbness.

This wasn't Marie's first rodeo, far from it really. This was a routine of hers, even more engrained than brushing her teeth. What first began as a few nights a month turned into an everyday situation. At least when she was younger, she'd wait until Marie was asleep before slipping off and leaving her unattended. At the time, she took it in stride. Her mother trusted her enough to leave her home alone at night. She was practically an adult! Each night, she'd stay up just a little bit later, slipping into bed at 10, then 11, and before she even knew it, she was falling asleep around 3 in the morning on the couch, infomercials pleading with her sleeping form to "quickly call toll-free now for 2 jumbo tomato knives for the price of one!"

Marie didn't personally see anything wrong with her newfound curfew (or lack thereof), although her teachers would say otherwise. Still, even with her failing grades, she was more than happy with the freedom her mother had given her, so much so that she had failed to lock the door behind her in her ecstatic haze. So while she was passed out on the couch with the tomato knife people yelling at her that $19.99 for two knives was more than affordable, a man who had lost his job three weeks prior with infants and a deceased wife had lost his way- not unlike her own mother- and had decided that he might find it if he broke into her house.

Even now, she couldn't find it within herself to blame him. He seemed like a nice enough man after, regardless of the bloody wound on her left leg from where he had slugged her with a crowbar in fear when she screeched as he was rambling passed her on sofa.

He had been arrested and charged with burglary, assault with a deadly weapon, assault on a minor, and breaking and entering despite Marie trying her hardest to get her mother to change her mind. It was her fault she had been left alone at the age of 13 after all, and the man apologized profusely and even broke down on the floor before her, calling 9-1-1 himself, waiting beside her for the ambulance and ultimately, to be taken in. Her mother wouldn't listen to her when she told her that he had kids, and that he was sorry. She was a mother bear and he had harmed her cub, all she heard and saw was red.

Yet, the very next day when Marie was released from the hospital, her mother simply called after she left once more to make sure she locked the door this time.

She'd went to a bar nearly every night since, and Marie's wound slowly healed into a jagged pink scar along her thigh.

Marie's eyes found her mother again after the memory faded, cold hand rubbing against the sensitive spot on her leg out of habit. There were a lot of things she could say. She could tell her mother no, that she wasn't going to sit around and wait for her to wreck on her way home from a bar. That she refused to open the door to yet another cop who was going to tell her about the death of one of her parents.

She had to say something, didn't she? Something profound enough to get her to listen and change her ways. Something that was going to make her realize her faults and break down, ask for forgiveness for all of the mental harm she's brought upon her daughter.

"Okay."

Well that wasn't what she'd wanted to say.

The satisfied look on her mother's face almost made her open her mouth and relinquish her anger, releasing several years of pent up frustrations and rage upon her, allowing them to wash over her like the passing tidal wave of a tsunami. Yet, she couldn't. She wanted to, God did she want to. However, flashes of her mother lying on the floor, surrounded by torn up photos and letters, an empty bottle of Jack Daniels beneath her curled fingers hushed the young girl before any noise could escape, leaving her mouth wide open like she expected her mother to toss one of her macaroni rocks into it to score 3 points.

Marie's mouth was still agape as she walked out the door, waving to her daughter as she closed it and ventured off to her impending doom. Maybe not a mortal doom, but at least it was dooming on her liver and morality.

Marie wondered if the bartender realized she had a daughter. Did they know she was leaving her child (albeit an adult one) at home while she drank her sorrows away? Whenever they handed her another glass, did they ever tell her it was time to go home? Ask her what she was doing there and why? Had her mother ever gone to Logan's bar? Maybe, but Marie trusted Logan enough to know that he wouldn't have let her mother continue to go there if she had. Logan was a good man, you know? At least, she was pretty sure. Maybe some other kid wasn't as lucky to be friends with him. Maybe some other kids parent was at his bar right now, blowing money that could be spent on their school clothes or food.

She was sure she wouldn't be able to aide someone's addiction, even if her job depended on it.

A strange urge took hold of Marie, flushing her body of any reason. She wasn't entirely sure what it stemmed from. Maybe some deep hidden spite, or even possibly the piece of her that just wanted to understand what the big deal was. Logan was so high and mighty when it came to alcohol, not even willing to let her have a taste. What was that all about? What was the reason? Why was it such a big deal?

Her mother had been nearly absent from her life for years, and all for what? A cheap buzz and a night you can't remember? Well, screw that. Marie wanted to experience it first hand. She wasn't willing to just sit back innocently, completely unaware of the world around her.

That's how she found herself in her bedroom, shimmying into a pair of dark tight jeans and a white halter top. She at least had enough thought to not wear heels- they wouldn't be necessary for where she was going. Still, she wasn't exactly experienced in the art of picking bar clothes, so she slipped on some leather boots, hoping they'd make her look just a little bit older.

She painted years onto her face, ignoring the feeling in her heart from it. This was the most adult thing she had ever done and it somehow was dragging away her youth, locking it upon the top shelf in her closet, soon to gain dust amongst her abandoned tassels. Grabbing that sadness by the throat, she threw it carelessly upon the shelf as well. This night was about understanding her mom and hopefully slipping into her mind for even just a moment. If she could manage to do that, then maybe she could manage to look at the woman without hating her.

Marie was almost out of the bedroom when her eyes caught a picture of Eric Masters that hung on her wall. It had been there since the fifth grade when he was the lead singer of the boy band "Love Punch". At this point, she left it there for nostalgia, still able to see the glint of lip gloss covering his chin from a particularly hormone filled time in her early teens. However, as she stopped just before the door and stared at the boy who she never knew, yet haunted her preteen fantasies, something in her cracked. Her dull nails tore through the worn out paper, shredding it to pieces, scraping the old paint behind it. His eyes fell on her right shoe and half of his lip landed somewhere between her bed and the wall, but she yanked those up and continued to tear until the once handsome boy resembled nothing more than a puzzle, never to be put together again.

In the aftermath, she realized that had been her first step into her mother's mind.

It terrified her.

At 9:45, she was out the door with a leather jacket on her back, hair tied in a loose bun at the back of her neck, feet bringing her to her bike before she even processed that it was her only transportation. Yeah, that'll make you look of-age.

She stood there for several moments before she had formulated her order of operations. It was the perfect plan, and she quite literally clapped herself on the back for thinking of it. Then she mounted her bike with determination, and took off.

The ride took about twenty minutes. It barely took two before she became imeasurably glad she had decided against doing her hair because the Alabama heat was already adding several inches of frizzy volume. A few loose tendrils slicked to her face with sweat, and as she wiped it away, some of her makeup was transferred to her sleeve in an off white mess. When she was a little ways down the street from the bar she had googled, she hopped off leaving the bike somewhere in the shadows, a tightly bound lock wrapped around a staple covered light pole, and then headed off into the direction of dulled neon lights..

Marie had never attempted 'sexy'. Wasn't sure she would know how to seduce someone even if she had been given a script and a producer. Still, she placed a slight sway in her hips that felt anything but natural, licking the salty-bitter liquid that was perched on the top of her reddened lips.

Her feet pattered across the pavement a little faster than could be considered completely calm and collected, but besides that and the newborn deer wobble in her ankles, she was the posterchild for lackadaisical. As if she did this all the time.

As if she didn't feel like she was losing a part of herself.

In her inexperienced mind, she had imagined bouncers standing outside waiting for people like her to try to walk in. But this was a dive bar, not a club. They'd ID her when she ordered a drink, which meant she'd be looked at more than one time. Her underage ID sat like an anchor in her pocket, demanding attention and guilt. There was no way they wouldn't ID her. She looked like a child in her mother's clothing, and she was beginning to feel like one too.

Glancing up at bright sign swarmed in insects that read Lamarck's, her heart began to hammer in fear. This was never going to work, she should just turn around and get back on her childish bike, get back to her childhood home, and sit on the same couch she had been sitting on since she was a child to watch weird reality show re-runs. That's what she usually did on a Friday night, and tonight shouldn't be any different.

So why then did she push the heavy door open, ignoring every inch of her body that screamed and pleaded to leave, stepping into the noisy bar and letting out a relieved sigh to know that not everyone was going to spin around on her and accuse her of the crime she was about to oh-so-desperately try to commit? Her reasoning was lost in the mixed emotions bombarding her at the time, and clearly so was her usually thick line between right and wrong. If it had been there, she'd have seen the bright orange sign flashing "WRONG" in her head, and hightailed it out of there before the next glass hit the counter.

The room before her was larger than the outside led you to believe, tables set up in an almost restaurant style. The back wall was pretty much entirely the bar, mismatched stools placed unevenly apart against it. There were lights at the top, parallel to the counter top, but the rest of the room relied on flashing and colorful lights lining the walls. It smelled of something she couldn't quite put her finger on, and while it wasn't pleasant, it wasn't entirely unpleasant either.

She sucked up her fear into a tight ball, and placed it right in the pit of her stomach for it to fester and grow, where she would release it in tears later that night. But for now, it was just a tight feeling in her stomach that she could deal with. Her small fingers gripped the ends of her jacket sleeves, pushing herself to an empty stool near the back left corner of the bar. She saw the back of one of the bartenders, and another turned towards the patrons with a small laugh as he took another order.

By the time she sat down, most of her energy was gone, and with it, her restlessness. It was easier to put on a façade of nonchalance when your body was just too tired to give a damn, and that's how she found herself leaning against the bar, looking around the place carefully, chipped fingernail hands folded on the counter in front of her.

"Well, hello there," a voice called, and Marie could almost see the smile in it without even looking. "What can I get you to drink?"

When she looked up, she saw the bartender standing before her, a soft smile on his lips. He was a shorter man, bad posture and a long nose, but he seemed nice. Something in his curious eyes told her she wouldn't get away with ordering anything alcohol, so she didn't even try. Being there was good enough for now. "Do you have iced tea?"

The man's smile grew then, nodding to her with the patience befitting a teacher. "Yes ma'am, we sure do. Best in all of Alabama."

Marie chuckled then too, leaning forward on her hand. "That's quite the declaration. Careful there, you might just make me test it." After it came out, Marie had to hold back the grimace that came from within. Where the hell had that even come from?

"I'd be more offended if you didn't," he patted the counter top, then lifted a finger and pointed at her. "An iced tea for the pretty girl, coming right up."

She released a relieved sigh when he stepped away. That hadn't been so bad. In fact, she had felt almost comfortable. Sure, there were a lot of people, but they all seemed to be minding their own business and none of them were people she recognized. Then again, she didn't get out much.

Looking back to find the bartender making her tea, her calm body immediately froze up, soft sultry eyes transforming into those of a child once more. In the spot she had just seen the unnamed bartender, she saw none other than Logan, one hand holding a glass and the other holding the rag cleaning it. However, his hands were no longer moving. In fact, none of him was moving. It was as if someone had stopped time for only Logan, like some cruel twist of fate. Of course, that only lasted until he forcefully shoved the glass back on the shelf behind him, pushing his colleague out of the way in his attempt to get somewhere. But where was he- Oh. Marie hadn't realized the entire time she had been looking at him, he had been looking at her too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it? Hate it? Preferably not the latter? Let me know!


	4. Authority Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marie gets a bit more than she bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains talk of rape, but very very briefly and broadly. Also, Logan is a bit soft in this chapter, but just know that the true-to-form bad ass Logan will be making an appearance soon.

****

#  **Chapter 4 – Authority Song**

****

##  **Marie**

 

Marie realized that in all the time they had known each other, Logan had never mentioned where he worked. A bar, yes. But the exact name? Not ever. She had wondered in the past if perhaps it was because he thought she would try and go see him.  

The truth is, if he had told her where he worked, she’d be at the furthest bar from it right then. It’s not as if she _wanted_ him to bare witness to her quarter life crisis.

“Oh hi there, Logan. I had no idea you-“ 

“Leave,” he barked from behind the counter, cutting her off. Well, if that wasn’t a stab right through the heart, she wasn’t sure what was. It was hard enough liking the brute of a man that was too old for her, but add that to him being genuinely rude and, even worse, in front of all of these people? Damn. You had all the components for a teenage heart break.  

Marie shielded her hurt, but she couldn’t keep her eyes from stinging with unshed tears. “Not the greeting I expected.” 

Logan shook his head, staring sternly down at her. “I’m serious, Marie.” Marie opened her mouth to scold him, but quickly closed it when she saw the disapproval on his face; who the hell did he think he was, anyway? Her father? “You need to go. Now.”

The other bartended took that moment to sit down her iced tea which Logan immediately scooped into his hands like a hawk does an unsuspecting snake. “Goddamnit, Derek. You can’t just hand shit out before checking ID’s. She’s a fucking kid!” 

Derek had the decency to glare at Logan then, making him spontaneously more likeable in Marie’s eyes. “The fuck are you talking about, Logan? It’s not even a-“ 

“We’re not in the business of giving drinks to minors, sweetheart. Don’t care for babysitting. Nothing personal,” Logan said to Marie, which was the final straw that broke the camel’s back (and its heart). He had never been so crass with her before. In fact, he had always treated her with so much more care than he treated others. That was part of the reason she had a crush on the asshole in the first place!

Well, if he wanted to play, she wanted a part of it. Giddy up, cowboy. “If you took your head out of your own ass, you’d let him explain that it’s just tea. Try letting people finish their sentences instead of interrupting them; maybe you’d look like less of a dick right now, _sweetheart_. ” Marie stood up, snatching the tea out of his hand, not caring that a third of it’s contents fell onto the counter beneath it. “And for the record, stop trying to be my dad. I already had one of those and he sure as hell wasn’t you.” 

The look on his face was more than worth it. The contours along his jaw were drawn in, doing a much better job than her own features could of covering the reaction her insult had caused, but Marie knew. She couldn’t tell you how the two of them had come to be so close, but the fact is that they were and because of that, Marie knew him better than anyone else in their one horse town. While it didn’t help the parts of her heart that were now separated entirely, floating freely in her chest without connections to the organs around it, she felt a slight bit of comfort in seeing him in pain right now. Marie vaguely wondered if there was some internal bleeding in her own chest, the pain growing stronger and echoing like a yell in a cavern.

Wiping the stray tears that managed to wriggle loose from their confines, she made sure she was turned so that he couldn’t see how he had affected her. He stood stock still, eyes following her as she took carefully paced steps to the other end of the bar, saddling up beside an older man who glanced at her from the sides of his eyes. She sincerely hoped this man saw the look on her face that practically screamed to leave her alone because she wasn’t prepared to have another confrontation. Not while her heart was aching.

After several moments, Marie allowed herself to look up from where she had been scraping her fingernail on the rubbery side of the counter, surprised to see Logan staring intently back at her. He was taking orders and speaking rather gruffly to the patrons, but never completely allowing her to leave his sight. It was difficult to not watch him, and after what felt like hours, she gave up. Instead, she leaned onto the counter and just let her eyes follow his every movement, taking in the way his biceps rippled and strained, as if aware they were under intense scrutiny.  

Logan was by no means traditionally handsome. He was rough and ragged, more likely to throw someone through a door than open it for them. His nose was slightly crooked near the bridge, as if broken at one point. But even if he wasn’t Hollywood handsome, he was beautiful. Marie was sure that if he ever found out she had used the word to describe him- even just mentally- he’d have her head on a stick, but she couldn’t help it. He just was. 

“No, fuck you!”, someone bellowed from behind her, sounding a little too close for comfort. Marie spun around to see a short man whose stomach was unable to be confined by his pants being shoved back by another man who was only slightly taller.  

She knew the second a fist was going to be thrown, but it still shocked her to see the blood trailing down the taller man’s lip afterwards, catching on the fine hairs of his chin. After that, it was a flurry of absolute insanity, both men swinging one another into anything hard and sturdy. Unfortunately, the bar fell under those conditions, and they were closest to the side that she sat perched on her stool.  

They were falling towards her, hurling like an asteroid at the end of the Cretaceous period and Marie was the dinosaur. She did little more than hide her head, waiting for the catastrophe that never came. Survival instincts were never her strong suit.

Right when she was sure she was about to be knocked out cold, she heard a deep voice holler “get the fuck outta this bar!” 

It was clear when she finally opened her eyes that Logan had once again been her knight and rusting armor, standing in front of her, slightly bent over as his breath came out in serrated pants. “Logan,” she whispered, a hand reaching forward to comfort him. 

He turned on her, eyes filled with restrained rage. “I told you to leave,” he growled, taking a step closer to her, effectively rendering her outstretched hand useless. “Why don’t you be a good girl and listen?”  

She was a child to him. Almost twenty years old, and she was still nothing but a child. 

“No.”  

He didn’t like that. Nostrils flaring, he threw his hands up and clenched them, bringing them back down hard on his own thighs. “Fine! Fucking stay then.” His eyes didn’t meet hers again as he walked away, going back behind the bar and disappearing into the back room. She watched the door to the room intently, hoping that he would come back out so they could talk. She didn’t like the feeling in her chest when they were upset with each other. If he’d apologize, she would too.  

“You look like you could use something a little stronger,” the old man beside her grumbled out, sliding his glass of dark brown liquid towards her. “Try this. It’ll make you feel better.” He looked as if he knew what he was talking about, probably around fifty and had a rumpled suit on. Probably worked some shitty job as an accountant or consultant. 

Marie laughed sardonically, picking up her own glass of less-offending liquid and sipping on it. “No thanks, I was taught to never drink something I hadn’t watched be mixed myself.” And by ‘taught’, she meant she had seen it in a movie, and when the protagonist didn’t head that warning, she ended up with quite the conundrum.  

The older man nodded, tapping his fingers lightly on the wood. He looked to be considering something. “Fair enough, can’t blame ya’ for that. How’s about I order you a drink then? What would you like?” He turned on his stool, letting his eyes slide stickily all over her. “You look like a mixed drink kind’a gal.” 

Marie wasn’t sure whether to be offended or flattered. Either way, she was getting what she had originally wanted, wasn’t she? She had come here to step into the life of her mother, and now the opportunity was presenting itself. Why then was her heart no longer in it? “Sure, mister. I’ll let you buy me a drink, but under one condition.” When she caught his eyes, she smiled. “Make it strong.” 

There was a twinkle in his eye, and he smirked back at her. “Deal.” His hand lifted up calling over an eager Derek. His eyes cast over Marie again, this time slightly guarded. “Can I get a boilermaker? And bring out a second shot with it.” Derek looked suspicious since the old man had his own drink already, but smiled politely and walked off to go grab the drink, probably to spite Logan and his shitty attitude. 

Obviously, Marie was completely unaware of what a 'boilermaker' was, but it sounded intimidating. It made her heart pound in anticipation. 

A few minutes later, Derek sat down a glass of bubbly amber liquid, along with two shot glasses of something the same color as the bourbon Logan had offered her earlier. “A shot and a beer. Nothing quite takes the edge off like that.” The older man reached forward to grab the second shot when his elbow accidentally shoved her phone right off the counter, landing on the floor with a crash. “Fuck, I’m sorry, hun.”  

She waved him off, slouching down to gather up the phone that was luckily protected by a life proof case. Checking it over for any new damage, she sighed when only seeing a new scratch at the bottom. That seemed like nothing when considering all of the crazy things that she had done in that night alone. 

Bouncing back up with new anticipation, she saw the old man pull back a little, hand still lingering beside his untouched drink. “Everything okay?” 

She smiled, sitting back on the perch of her stool. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Not much damage at all.” Her fingers traced the edge of the glass, running along sides that were building a fine layer of sweat. “Are we downing these in one go?” 

The old man snickered then, and suddenly Marie felt like a child. Of course you’re supposed to down them in one go, what kind of question is that? She felt blush lick her cheeks, looking away to grab her drink. The man beside her grabbed his as well, staring at her as he brought it to his lips. Marie tried to ignore his stare as she opened her mouth to swallow it all down, only to have it ripped away from her lips before she can even get a taste. If that happened one more time, she was going to kick Logan’s ass so hard, he’d be a puppet for her foot.

She was unsurprised to see Logan standing before her, a murderous glint in his eyes. Still, she didn’t know why the hell he’d done it. In fact, for a guy who seemed to complain a lot about not wanting to have to take care of her, he sure wasn’t practicing what he preached. “Care to explain what you’re doing?”  

But the man wasn’t paying her any attention. In fact, his eyes were strained on the man beside her, rapidly looking extremely awkward in his chair. “I'm starting to get tired of kicking people out of this bar, so make this easy on me and leave nicely.” 

Alright, this was getting a little extreme. Just for buying her a drink, he was heatedly kicking the man out? Why was he being so protective? “Logan, I think you’re getting a little out of hand.” 

“Yeah, son. I was just giving the girl a drink.” The old man smiled at Marie, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. She felt bad for him. He hadn’t done anything  _that_ wrong. Yeah, she was clearly not twenty-one, but he wasn’t actively trying to take advantage of her or anything.  

Logan’s facial expressions slid into lethal territory, somehow becoming more terrifying. It was scary enough to where she wasn’t able to speak out about how silly she thought he was being. Yet, she still couldn’t even begin to comprehend why on Earth he was acting like this. Telling her to leave earlier was one thing, but kicking out a nearly innocent man who was a paying customer? That was getting ridiculous.  

“I’m telling you to get out.” He left little room for argument. “I’ll give you ten seconds.” 

Not willing to get into a fight over something so trivial, the man lifted his hands up in defeat, scooting back his chair and standing. His speckled hand landed on Marie’s shoulder, making her look up at him, speechless. “You want me to drive you-“ 

Before he could finish, in typical Logan standard, he cut him off. But this time, instead of with his words, it was with his fist. He’d yanked the man nearly half way over the bar, fist landing with a hard smack in his jaw. The man dove to the floor beneath him, his face hitting the solid ground before the rest of him.

And just like that, the room was silent. Marie stared at the motionless man on the floor with wide eyes, her hands held in front of her mouth. 

“Logan…” It came out as a whisper, and she didn’t realize how shocked she was until she heard the crack rippling through her throat.  

Everyone watched the lumbering man as he calmly stepped out from behind the bar, walking to the fallen man. He quickly knelt down, dipping his hand in his pocket.  _Was he robbing him?_  No, Logan wouldn’t do that. He was likely just looking for his I.D. Oh god, would Logan get in trouble? Yeah, it was uncalled for, but she didn’t want Logan to go to jail for it!

However when he stood back up, in his hand lay a small clear vial with a worn out black lid. Where did that come from? He sat it on the counter, the bottom of the vial clinking like a miniature version of the glasses he’d been slapping down before. All eyes fell on it, and Marie couldn’t help but feel like she was missing something.

“What… What is that?” Her voice wasn’t loud, but Logan’s eyes shot to her as if she had screamed it. His eyes cast down, no longer able to hold her pleading ones. The silence was killing her. “Logan?” Still, no answer. Marie moved forward, taking the vial into her hands to look it over before finally shoving it towards Logan. “Tell me what this is, Logan!”

“G.H.B.” He stated solemnly, still not meeting her eye. “It’s a date rape drug, Marie. He poured some into your shot when you were picking up your phone.” 

She felt all of the eyes in the room fall on her. It was too much, all of it. Her chest was beginning to heave. She had almost been  _drugged_. She could have been  _raped_. He would have somehow convinced her to get in his car and maybe she would have never left it alive.  

Staring at the man on the floor, she felt like strangling him. Without hesitation, she was beside him, burying her foot in his gut. He shot up, letting out a cry of anguish before sinking back to the floor again, breath comng raggedly from his bony body. Yet it didn’t feel like enough. Had he done this to other women? She let her foot slam back into him, fist raised high as she prepared to kneel down and slam it over and over and over again into his face in the hopes of letting out some of the terror that was now coiled up inside her.

She only felt the tears when warm hands swathed around her stomach hauling her to her feet. She knew it was Logan without looking, turning around to bury her head within the protective confines of his chest. Tears and snot were soaking through his shirt, but he didn't seem to mind. His own hands draped around her back then, soothing her gently. Her mind was racing and her blood was thrumming like a damn drum line, but her heart was slowly being mended by his polite touches. Logan had pulled her to him now, walking her to what she assumed was a back room. Marie was incredibly thankful to be out of sight from the prying and pitying eyes.  

“Logan, what if he- what if I had drank it-“ She was hysterical now, knowing that she could finally let it out.  

The man before her was still holding her close, but letting her separate from him a little as she tried to voice her fears. Logan’s fingers were cupping her cheeks, keeping her tears in sight. The pads of his thumbs continuously brushing them from her face, eventually pulling her back down into him, where she graciously collapsed.  

**…**

****

##  **Logan**

“You’re okay, chipmunk. I’m here, I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” Marie nodded into his chest, feeling almost as much relief from the affectionate nickname he hadn’t said in days as she did his soothing hands, eventually tugging at his shirt to bring them even closer together. “I’m sorry I was rude to you before, Marie. I just… I wasn’t sure why you were here, and I knew it wasn’t a good idea.” He felt her stiffen in his arms then. “You’re just a kid, and seeing you in this bar, it got me well and truly pissed off.” He got protective when it came to her. Logan hoped she understood even though she probably didn’t. Logan’s caveman attitude probably didn’t even make sense to a real caveman. Still, Marie had always had this way about her. Something that let her know into Logan’s mind and miraculously allowed her to comprehend his animalistic thoughts.

Unfortunately this time, she didn’t. “A kid? I’m a legal adult, Logan. I’m not a kid.” Well, at least she was feeling something other than fear and sadness. The tears were still pooled in her eyes, but now she bore an angry glare. “I don’t need to ask your permission before going to a bar. I didn’t order a drink, and therefore I was perfectly fine with being here.” 

“ _Clearly_ ,” Logan huffed, realizing it was the wrong thing to say as soon as he said it. 

She moved away from him fully then, staring at him like he had just stuck a knife in her gut. “Sorry I didn’t realize someone was going to try to drug me,  _Mr. Howlett._ ” 

“Stop, Marie. I didn’t mean it like that,” his hands reached out for her, but she was already shifting further away.

“You did. You knew exactly what it would sound like, and ya said it anyway.” She looked away, wiping angrily at her eyes. Then after a brief moment of silence, she fixed her gaze back on his own. “Well,  _Mr. Howlett_ , you won’t have to worry about me anymore. I think I’m done with this bar, and the company it keeps.” And then she was gone.  

Logan’s feet were moving before his head, throwing himself at the door to watch her walk out into the night, all eyes following her. He wasn’t just going to let her go out there on her own. He’d be damned if he ever let her do that. Hell, if he had known before she was going to ride down here on her bike, he’d’ve popped the damn tires.

His jacket was on his back in the blink of an eye, not even bothering to tell Derek that he’d be back.  

“Marie! Come on, kid! Slow down! I’m sorry, alright?” It still struck him as odd how easy it was to say those words to her. ‘Sorry.’ Logan didn’t say that often, but when it came to Marie? Well, he’d try God damn near everything.

She heard his shouting behind her, and although he knew she was close to the edge of turning and forgiving him, he saw as she reigned it in and stood her ground. “I’m going home, Logan.” 

His hand grasped her forearm like a vice, making her spin around and lugging her into his hold once again. “I’ll take you,” and now his eyes were the ones pleading. Well, the closest Logan’s eyes could get to pleading. 

The night air chilled her through her jacket, but she wasn’t going to give up without a fight. “No need, I have my bike.” 

Apparently, neither was he. “I’ll put it in the back.” His hand ran through her hair, sending even more chills down her spine that had nothing to do with the weather. “Let me drive you.” They both knew she was fighting a losing battle; she knew it as soon as she looked into his eyes, and he knew it as soon as this stupid fight began.

With a small smile, she put up the theoretical white flag. 

“Alright, sugar.” 

She watched the desperation flood from his eyes, a pinch of happiness remaining. In turn, it made her feel the same. “Alright? Well let’s go grab that bike of yours, then.” His smile was blinding, and so she looked away, stepping up beside him and grasping his hand in hers.  

His eyes fell on hers once more, gaze something too intense for either of them to comment on. So, they left it like that. Her holding onto his hand for dear life, and him fighting the urge to shrug it off with guilt. She held his hand all the way up until he had walked her bike to his truck, nearly ten minutes later. It felt like leaving home when he pulled it away to walk around to the drivers side after helping her in, but they both knew this wasn’t anything romantic at all. Simply comfort between friends. Logan had been upset by what had occurred tonight too, something about the protection he felt over her being compromised. She knew it, he knew it, the whole bar knew it.  

However, Logan tried to make sure his mind didn’t think hard on  _why_  exactly he had been so protective in the first place. That would just lead to him brooding and Marie’s curiosity.

When he pulled up in front of her house, he cut the engine. “Your mom not home?” She knew he was asking simply out of politeness. 

“I think we both know the answer to that.” He watched as her eyes clowded over, debating a deep thought in that pretty little head of hers. There was something she wasn’t telling him, and Logan was a bit concerned with what it could be. He always seemed to know how to make her feel better without her even telling him what was wrong, even if he usually pissed her off in the meantime. That’s why Marie always trusted him with her complicated stuff. “Logan, listen. I want to explain why I went to the bar.” 

Oh.

“No need, I get it.” Marie’s eyebrow quirked at that. “I know you were upset earlier when I didn’t let you try the alcohol, and that you were trying to prove something,” he turned towards her then, staring at her with soft eyes. “But there’s no need. You don’t have to prove anything to me, I just want you to grow up happy and healthy.” 

Well, damn if that didn’t sound like a caring father giving his daughter a talk after finding out she had tried a beer for the first time. Now she had a look of disbelief. What? Did he say something wrong again? “That’s not at all the reason I did it.” It came out harshly, and she quickly reigned in her bitterness. “I went there because of my momma.” Logan’s head cocked to the side, reminding Marie of a confused puppy. “She’s out drinking almost every single night, and when she finally comes home, she’s someone else. Her eyes are glossy and hollow, and there’s usually a faint smell of bile hanging around her until she takes a shower. I wanted to know why.” She shakes her head, looking down at her jeans now bunched up in her hands. “No, I wanted to feel why. I wanted to feel what is so damn important that she's become comfortable enough to leave her child behind.”  

As if they’ll catch fire if he doesn’t, Logan’s hands slip through the atmosphere to clasp along the back of her neck, the other landing on her hand. He didn’t mean to do it, but he wasn’t willing nor strong enough in the moment to stop them either.  

Marie shifted her hand, turning it upside down to hold his on her thigh. Looking back at him then, and she watched the anger burn behind his vision. “I needed to know if it was just that good of a life, or if there’s something wrong with me that makes it hard for her to stay.” 

His chin was on the top of her head then, her body pulled half way into his lap. He’d never been this intimate with her, and surely neither of them would mention it again, but he was incapable of leaving her alone at that very moment. Not when she’s looking up at him like that. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Marie. Not a damn thing.” His fingers absentmindedly play with her hair, feeling the dark, silky tresses glide like water. “She’s lucky to have you as her daughter. If she’s leaving you at night, it’s her own fault.” 

They stop talking after that. Just comfortable silence as she lays against his chest, feeling his fingers play with her shadowy hair, the thumb on his other hand rubbing gently against the bend of her knuckles. He holds her close for almost an hour, showing her more affection in one night than he’d ever shown another soul in all of his years of living. It was strange to him, especially when he felt their connection deepen because of it. She was already high on his extremely small list of favorite people, which included less than a handful of others. But now, she was starting a list all her own.  

Trouble was, he wasn’t sure what to label it.  

In fact, he was terrified of what he  _wanted_ to label it. So terrified, he didn’t even allow himself to entertain the thought. It was then that he decided to let her go, leaning back and pushing on her shoulders gently. Her soft even breath let him know she had fallen asleep, and part of him wanted to allow her to just stay where she was, cuddled up against him. Hell, part of him wanted _a lot_ more than that. But the rational side of his brain knew that no good could come from that.  

She was a sweet kid, and he was a sick bastard. 

“Marie,” he spoke quietly, nudging her shoulder. He watched with a smile as her eyes slowly began to flutter open, before landing on his.  

“Oh hi there, Logan,” she said breathlessly, and it was almost too much. 

Instead of what his body wanted him to do, gathered all of the self control he had been neglecting throughout the night and put it to good use. “I think you should probably go on in. It’s getting late.” He purposely ignored the hurt that spread across her face. He told himself that it was for the best, that she needed to go for her own good. Any more time with him and he’d corrupt that innocent little head of hers.  

Still, the loss of her smile left him grasping for the mental image of it he’d locked away already. “Okay, Logan. I guess I should go.” She gave him a brief smile that he knew wasn’t genuine, opening the door and shuffling out. He watched from his window as she walked the path to her front door, turning at the entrance to give him a shy wave before unlocking the door and stepping inside. 

“Shit,” Logan sighed, putting his truck in drive.  

 

**…**

****

##  **Marie**

The next morning, Marie entered the living room, lying a blanket on her mother’s comatose body that lie half way on the couch. She kissed the woman’s moist temple, lingering slightly before shifting back onto the balls of her feet.  

Then, while standing there watching the woman she loved with all of her heart, the woman who hurt her more than anyone else she’d ever known… Something just _clicked._ And just like that, she understood.

“I love you,” Marie whispered sadly, knowing the other woman would have no recollection of it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it? Hate it? Preferably not the latter? Let me know!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan thinks back on one of the times he had with Marie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is entirely Logan and I personally love every minute of it.

****

#  **Chapter 5 – Minutes to Memories**

**__**

##  **_Logan_ **

 

He didn’t get much sleep that night, toes curling into his constricting sheets with rage when he began to think too much. What Marie had said was revolving around all of his other thoughts before eventually taking control, as if believing the storm was over when you were really just in the eye. She truly assumed her mother was escaping _her_ by going off and drinking her head off at night. That her mother saw her as a nuisance, and not because she was addicted to the numbness that came from the alcohol burning through her veins. It made him sick to his stomach.

Logan sat up in his bed, swinging his legs off the edge to plant himself firmly into place before he was swept away with anger. Marie had been neglected for the last six years, since her dad passed. She didn’t tell him that in her words, but he’d be a complete asshole to not realize. She was left alone every night; sweet, innocent Marie locked up in her house alone like some sort of fucking disney movie. But then, what did that make him? He sure as hell wasn’t a prince. Logan would rather bite his own damn arm off than even touch a pair of tights.

But he did want to protect her. He couldn’t do much- couldn’t give her the comfort she needed, a void only her alcoholic mom could fill- but he could protect her like the watch dog she’d turned him into. A quick perimeter check every couple of hours was his usual, just so that he knew there was no signs of anyone attempting to enter. Still, he didn’t want her to know about it. Marie may have been sweet as sugar, but she was also stubborn as hell and would have given him a piece of her mind if she found out he was circling around her house at night.

Groaning, Logan moved into his bathroom and turned on the tap, splashing frigid water into his taut face. He despised how little parenting she received. Her mother never picked her up when Marie asked, even when it was important. For God’s sake, Logan was the one who picked her up from her graduation because her mom left half way through. Marie hadn’t known where her mother had went, but Logan did.

That was the night he finally spoke up.

_Logan_ _was livid. He tried not to let most things piss him off, probably because there was an abundance of people and situations who tested his patience and if he let himself get pissed everytime it happened, he’d be serving a life sentence behind bars already. However, when he got a text from who he had assumed was_ _Marie, since she was one of the only people besides his co-workers who he had given his number, he felt his ability to contain his emotions wane._

**_Unknown Number: Hey I know you gave me this number in case of emergencies only, but I don’t know who else to ask. I’m too far away to walk home_**  

 _He saved her number as soon as he finished reading the message._  

 ** _Logan: Where are you?_**  

 ** _Marie: I’m at_** ** _Darson’s_** ** _Stadium_**  

 _The beep from his truck unlocking sounded in his ears. Why was she there this late at night?_  

 ** _Logan: Why the hell are you there?_**  

 _She didn’t respond for a few minutes._ _Logan’s foot pressed a little harsher on the gas, unable to fend off the gnawing worry as he spat rocks out behind him. He was already half way there when his phone beeped again._  

 ** _Marie: My graduation was tonight_**  

 _Shit. Shit, shit, shit. He had been invited to that. She had given him a formal invitation and everything. He had it pinned up on his fridge at that very moment, next to an attached photo of her sitting in a field with a smile on her face and her dress billowing around her ivory legs._  

 _As if she knew what he was thinking, she texted again._  

 ** _Marie: I know you were busy,_** ** _Logan._**  

 _No, he hadn’t been. In fact, he had been so not busy that he had left the woman he was with as soon as he knew_ _Marie_ _needed him. What kind of bastard was he that he’d miss her graduation and try to knock boots with some random girl he met at a bar. Even worse, it wasn’t like his mind hadn’t drifted to her throughout the night. So how could he have forgotten her graduation?_  

 ** _Logan: I’ll be there in two minutes_**  

 _When he pulled up beside the stadium, he saw other graduates standing around with the families, posing for pictures and holding bouquets. And then there was_ _Marie. Dried tears crusting beneath her eyes, cap and tassel crushed between her fingers. Her gown was thrown haphazardly over her shoulder, pretty little flower dress blowing angrily in the wind, threatening to rise higher than it should with every gust. For a second, Logan forgot why he was there._  

 _She stepped forward, opening the door and jumping in, still not looking up._  

 _“My mom wasn’t here when it finished,” she told him while hiding the obvious urge to cry._  

 _He really was a bastard._  

 _“Chipmunk… Shit, I’m sorry kid. I just got caught up and… Didn’t realize_ _-“ She_ _cut him off before he could continue spouting whatever bullshit he thought would make her hate him less._  

 _She finally lifted her head, looking into his eyes._ _Logan_ _was thrown for a loop when her mouth tilted into a watery smile. “Don’t worry about it,_ _Logan. You’re here now, that’s what matters.” God, what Saint did he unknowingly make friends with to get to meet her? He had to remember to buy the guy a drink when he croaked. But right now, this was about her. She was upset, that was apparent; And yet she held it in because she didn’t want to make him upset as well._  

 _“No, it’s not okay.” His hand had reached over on its own accord, grasping hers that was still crushing her cap. “I’m going to make it up to you,” her smile grew brighter, but he also saw the hesitation._  

 _Her small fingers encircled his own, her grip tight and warm. “You really don’t have to.”_  

 _She was too sweet for her own good. He had a feeling he was going to need a dentist appointment after tonight. “Never said I_ had _to do anything. I want to.”_  

 _So, that’s how they ended up outside of a local diner a little after eleven at night. She led the way, and didn’t notice when he had stopped for a moment, kneeling down to grab something before following once more behind her. Logan held the door open for her as they entered the quaint restaurant, a bell ringing above to alert the staff of new customers._  

 _“Sit where you want, we’ll be with_ _ya_ _’ in a minute!” a_ _high pitched_ _voice shouted from the kitchen._  

 _Marie_ _looked up to_ _Logan_ _for direction, not comfortable making the decision of where to sit. He was more than happy to help her out. “Let’s sit in the corner booth over there. I don’t like it when I can’t see what’s going on outside.” She nodded, cheeks still bunched up with joy._  

 _He watched her scoot in, holding the ends of her dress down as she did. When she was done, she looked back up at him, and then across from her where she expected him to have already been. He was dreading the next moment, but when he saw the broad delight that flooded each of her features after sitting down the wildflowers he had just picked in front of her, he knew it was worth every bit of pride he lost. Her hands immediately went to them, picking through the different colors in awe, not even caring that several of them still had the roots and dirt._  

 _She hadn’t even noticed when he managed to scoot in the booth, eyeing her the whole time. As she continued to finger through, irrational nervousness nibbled at his chest. Yeah, they weren’t nice flowers, but it was all he had been able to manage in the short amount of time. “I know it’s not a bouquet.”_  

 _He was glad there wasn’t already food on the table because her body was suddenly thrown half way across it, dragging him into the first hug he’d had in longer than he could remember. “I love it. Screw bouquets.”_  

 _His face was halfway buried into her hair, just breathing her in. She smelled like honeysuckle. It had been the only thing he could smell the first time she got in his car, probably her shampoo. It was distinctly_ _Marie, something he could take solace in, and something he thankfully never found on the overly-perfumed_ _barflies_ _he took to for other reasons. No,_ _Marie_ _was a friend. A confidante. Someone he looked forward to seeing, which was rare for him._  

 _Logan_ _didn’t like the fact that he had become so dependent on a little girl, even if it was just for a small amount of comfort. He’d never try to force her into anything else. She was too good, too pure, too innocent._  

 _Too young._  

 _Still, this hug was far more intimate than anything that they had done before. He made sure it didn’t teeter on the edge of inapt, hands in all the safe areas. The fingers he had dug into her hair were simply for convenience, nothing more. He was only allowing it to happen because she needed it. Right now, she needed him. He was sure at that moment, he couldn’t deny her anything. That was a terrifying thought. When had she become so special to him? Giving it a moment’s thought, he concluded it wasn’t a question that he could answer merely because there was no answer. He and_ _Marie’s friendship just_ ** _was_** _. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and his sick and twisted affection for this young girl wasn’t either._  

 _When someone cleared their throat beside them, the hug was broken._  

 _Logan_ _pulled away quicker than_ _Marie, but his smile was still there. Although, looking at the waitress who was nearly grinning at the two of them, it did falter. What did she think was going on?_ _Marie_ _was just a kid. Maybe she thought it was a dad hugging a daughter, or a brother and younger sister._  

 _“Didn’t mean to interrupt, kiddos. I just need your drink order.” Scratch that, she definitely didn’t think they were related._  

 _“Just a water, please,”_ _Marie_ _said, smiling politely up at the waitress. She held the diner’s printed paper menu in front of her, pretending as if she didn’t already know what she wanted._  

 _Logan_ _chuckled to himself. “I’ll take a,” the word ‘beer’ almost left his tongue, but then he looked at_ _Marie. Her mother was an alcoholic. The girl would probably think he was just like that, always drinking a beer. For some reason, he did care what she thought of him. “A coke.”_  

 _The laughter that_ _bursted_ _from pink lips in front of him left him startled, glaring at_ _Marie_ _who was unable to hold it in. “He’ll have a beer.” The look she gave him told him she knew exactly what he had been trying to do, and that she appreciated it, but it was unnecessary. She looked back up at the confused waitress. “Trust me, he won’t even drink the coke.”_  

 _The waitress looked back at him, expecting a final answer. “I’ll have a beer,”_ _Logan_ _relinquished, glad_ _Marie_ _knew him more than he thought she did._  

 _The older woman smiled while writing down the orders, then nodded. “Alright, a water and a beer. Well I’ll give you two a few minutes.”_  

 _“Nah, we know what we want,”_ _Logan_ _told her, ignoring the persistent stare_ _Marie_ _was now giving him. Quite the hypocrite. “I’ll have the double bacon cheese burger with a side of mashed potatoes and fries,” despite her own unnerve,_ _Marie_ _had to smile at that one. The man loved his potatoes. “And she’ll have pecan pancakes with two sausages and scrambled eggs.”_  

 _This time, the look the waitress gave them was knowing._ _Logan_ _didn’t want to guess at what she thought she knew. She read back their order, and once they confirmed it, left them alone. Of course, after she mumbled something about “cutest thing I ever did see.”_  

 _Once he turned away from where the waitress disappeared to, his eyes drifted instinctively to_ _Marie’s. She had been patiently waiting. “You remembered.”_  

 _“Yeah,”_ _Logan_ _ran his hand down his face. “Apparently, I can remember a god damn food order that you told me about months ago, but I can’t remember one of the most important days of your life.”_  

 _“Really, it wasn’t anywhere near the most important day of my life._ _My future husband and_ _children would_ _be so offended." It was meant as a_ _joke, yet it still left_ _Logan_ _shifting in his seat with unease._ _"Besides, you can’t begin to imagine how much you’ve helped already.”_  

 _After that, the conversation became simple and easy._ _Marie_ _told him about how her mom had come to the graduation, but left about half way through without telling her. She told him she didn’t invite_ _many people because she didn’t want people to go out of their way for her. Then she went on to talk about how she was excited for college, even if she was only able to go to the local community college. That little bit of information was news to him. She had been talking about going to the University of Alabama. When did she change her mind?_  

 _“It was my mom’s idea,” she quickly supplied, once again proving just how well she knew his thoughts. “She didn’t like the idea of me going off several hours away.” The waitress, with the name Consuela printed on her shirt, returned then to drop off the drinks, reassuring that the food would be ready soon before taking off again._ _Marie_ _called out a thank you, which was met with a warm smile. “Anyway, I think it’s for the best. I probably shouldn’t be upending my life when I wouldn’t even have enough money to eat there.”_  

 _There was no need for him to point out she had received more than enough in grants and scholarships to attend there with ease; they both knew. “Maybe you could just do basics here, then head off to university.” The twisting in her seat told him she wasn’t comfortable with the idea, but he still wasn’t sure why. “I think you should go where you’d get the best degree, kid.”_  

 _“I think I should stay where I’m comfortable. With the people I’m comfortable with,”_ _Marie_ _said, not meeting his eyes. Before he could confront_ that _curveball, she spoke again. “Plus, I’ve already applied for an internship here, and my college is completely paid for with money left over.”_  

 _He sighed, his shoulders turning downwards slightly in defeat. “If that’s what you really want.”_  

 _Brown was still clashing with brown when she said, “it is.”_  

 _The food came, and they stopped talking for a while to eat, but when they started back up,_ _Marie_ _hit him with a difficult statement she had thought would be comedic._  

 _“I know you think I’m upset with you for not showing up, but it’s good to know you’re getting_ ** _some_** _action.” His food had nearly wound up on her plate, especially after he started choking on it._  

 _“What the hell do you mean?” he had asked in a scarily calm voice, but he might as well have roared it._ _Marie_ _knew that quiet_ _Logan_ _was more dangerous than loud_ _Logan._  

 _Her shoulders tensed, looking_ _self conscious_ _then, ready to bolt out the door any moment. This certainly wasn’t how he foresaw this night going. “I’m sorry if I upset you, it’s just that you… Well, you have something right here,” she lifted her finger, pointing to a spot right under his jaw._  

 _Logan_ _lifted his own hand and wiped at the spot. When he pulled it away, he found the bright pink lipstick from the lips of the woman he had been with before picking Marie up on his fingers. Flashes of her smiling at him, leaning over to draw her lips over his neck in the back alley of the bar they had been at, crossed his mind._ _Marie_ _knew. This whole time,_ _Marie_ _knew he had missed her graduation to fuck around with some stranger. He felt like he was going to be sick._  

 _“I thought you knew it was there,” she called out, but her voice was like a whisper in the tempest going on in his head. She had seen it earlier, at least since they had been at the diner. Her bright brown eyes probably lingered over the spot multiple times, thinking he was showing it off like some disgusting brag._  

 _She said it was_ good _, and fuck if that didn’t leave his heart with a cannon sized hole._    
_He tore out a ten and twenty, throwing them carelessly on the messy table before pushing himself out of the booth._  

 _“Wait, what’s going on?_ _Logan, hold on a second!”_ _Marie_ _called after him. Everyone in the diner was staring at them, but he didn’t care. He didn’t intend on staying there longer than was necessary. Nothing they thought or assumed bothered him. Her, on the other hand…_  

 _The truck was in sight. He had walked over to the passenger side door, opening it for her. She didn’t get in. “Please, talk to me.” No response. He knew she wouldn’t give up that easily, though. “Logan, don’t just shut me out. Why are you so upset?” And part of him felt like tearing through the guilt that ate him up and spitting it out. Part of him wanted to tell her everything, to get it out of the way and let her hate him for feeling these disgusting things_ _he did about her. Let her slap him, hit him, scream at him. It’d be easier if she was the one who broke him, not the other way around._  

 _But he couldn’t. A selfish part of him wanted to keep things the way they were, knowing it was either this or nothing. If those were his options, he’d keep her obliviously by his side ten times over._  

 _He leaned over, exhausted at the decision. It was a bit of a dip, but his forehead rested on her shoulder, calmed by her honeysuckle shampoo. “I should have been at your graduation, kid,” he said, more than aware of the way she sucked her chest in, but unaware of why exactly. “There’s no real excuse, I should have been there for you. Not with some_ _bar bunny.”_  

 _He hadn’t anticipated the small warm hands wrapping around his lower back, landing tentatively before gripping tightly into his shirt. “You were,_ _Logan. When I needed you, you_ _came._ _That’s what matters. You dropped what you were doing and came for me, even when you didn’t have to.” Clearly, she didn’t know that he actually_ did _have to. His body wouldn’t let him_ not ** _._** _When she texted, he didn’t even remember the compromising position he had been in until he was almost to his truck with his jeans sagging around his lower hips and the woman who was still on her knees in the dirty alley screamed_ _more dirty words_ _than one lady should know._  

 _“You’re too forgiving,” he told her, pulling away._  

 _She reluctantly released him, but her worried expression had been replaced with a soft smile. “Only_ _with_ _you.”_  

 _They had left after that._ _Logan_ _couldn’t help but look over and watch her playing with the wilting wild flowers, a serene look in her eyes. At that moment, she didn’t look eighteen. She looked like she had seen more years than even him, like all of the shit that had happened in her life had sped up the aging inside of her mind, even if her skin hadn’t quite caught up._  

 _It was making it difficult for him to remind himself that she was too young for him, even though it had become his mantra._  

 _Later that night, he left his house when he realized he wasn’t going to be getting any sleep. When he was restless, he would either go get a workout in, beating the punching bag until it trembled, or go to work to keep himself busy. Since he was_ _more shaky_ _than anything, he decided work would be the best stress reliever. He didn’t call in, but they’d never turn away the opportunity for more hands, especially when he offered to do it for no pay._  

 _His blood started building into forte, deafening his ears as soon as he pulled into the parking lot. Right at the edge was Annette’s car, proving_ _something_ _he already knew._  

 _She was flirting with a man twice_ _her size and_ _half_ _her age at the bar, grinning into her dark drink as she twirled a strand of hair._ _Logan_ _held nothing back as his boots slammed into the ground on his way to her, eyes dark and dangerous enough to tell anyone in his way to get the hell out of it. She was still smiling seductively when she looked up and saw him, perhaps even more so._  

 _“Logan, what are you doing here?” So, she knew he wasn’t working tonight. Or at least wasn’t supposed to be._  

 _“’Could ask you a similar question, Annette.” She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, finally catching on that he wasn’t happy with her. “Where’s_ _Marie?”_  

 _That sure as hell knocked her off her feet. “Marie? She-she’s with some friends.”_  

 _“What a relief. So, I guess I didn’t have to go and pick her up from her graduation after all. Someone should have told me sooner,”_ _Logan’s eyes were scorching now if Annette’s squirming was any indication. Like an ant under a magnifying glass. “What are you doing here, Annette? Your_ _daughter’s_ _at home waiting for you.”_  

 _He hadn’t been sure how drunk she was until she wobbly stood up, poking him in the chest. “What’s it to you? Why do you care so much about my daughter?” Oh, no. She wasn’t about to turn this around on him. His guilt about_ _Marie_ _was between him and her, not her shitty mother._  

 _“Why don’t you?”_  

 _The loud smack of flesh against flesh broke through the noise of the room. “How I handle my daughter is none of your god damn business,” Annette told him, arm finding the counter behind it to steady her._  

 _“Go home, Annette,”_ _Logan_ _said, suddenly feeling like he could lie down and sleep for a week. No wonder_ _Marie_ _liked hanging around him if this was her other option. “Get some sleep, and in the morning, tell_ _Marie_ _how sorry you are for missing her graduation.” Annette looked weary as well. Maybe she wasn’t a monster._ _Logan_ _reached in his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. He handed her a twenty. “Take her to breakfast tomorrow, or lunch, anything. The kid needs her mom.”_  

 _The anger in her had dissipated. She did love her daughter,_ _Logan_ _knew that. He also knew she had a shitty way of showing it. “Fine,” she said,_ _quivering fingers taking_ _the money from his hand._  

 _“Elvin, can you drive Annette here to her house on Oakwood?” The man in question nodded his head, picking his keys up off his table and gesturing towards the door. Annette walked slowly towards him, gathering her balance. At the door, she turned and looked at_ _Logan, who had_ _been trying to avoid looking at her._  

 _“Remind me when I’m sober to keep you away from my daughter.”_  

 _And then she was gone, and despite the few stares he received, the atmosphere slammed back into place like time had stopped for a moment and then continued._ _Logan_ _looked at the bartenders working that night, each of them standing still and staring back. “Don’t serve her next time she’s in here. Put her on the blacklist. I’ll let everyone else know.”_  

 _The next afternoon,_ _Marie_ _was overwhelmed with happiness as she told him about how her mother had suddenly taken her out for lunch, talking for hours about her future plans and_ _everything else a girl should always be able to talk about with their mother. That smile she was wearing was a picture, and he was content with staring at it for however long she felt like talking._  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it? Hate it? Preferably not the latter? Let me know!


	6. Lonely Ol' Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marie gets an unwanted visitor and figures out that Logan might not ever return her feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting closer to when 'shit hits the fan'.   
> Warning: This is the type of chapter that lets you know you're about to experience a slow burn romance. Enjoy!

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#  **Chapter 6 – Lonely Ol’ Night**

**__**

##  **_Marie_ **

The next night, everything had returned to usual. Her mother was gone again, but this time, she got it. Marie had realized something when her mom came back earlier that morning, the stench of puke and alcohol floating around her. She wasn’t leaving because bars were better than being home, or because she was escaping Marie. She was an addict removing herself from reality. Somewhere inside, she was hurting, and alcohol was giving her that relief, even if only temporarily.

So no, she didn’t like it, but she sort of got it.

After that epiphany, Marie decided her stint with alcohol was finished. She didn’t need it, and if she was being honest, she’d been a bit traumatized by the whole “drugging” fiasco. Twenty-one seemed too soon.

As if her brain wanted her to suffer more, and image of Logan took up residence in her head. He had taken care of her. She may have despised the way he did it, but he still did it nonetheless. A part of Marie would like to believe that meant he somehow felt the same way she did, even if only a little. However, this was not true. It couldn’t be. Marie was a ‘little girl’ and Logan was… Logan. A grown man. He’d lived through so much more life than her, experienced things she couldn’t begin to comprehend…

She was slowly starting to see that, too. 

With a heavy sigh, Marie moved through the kitchen with ease. Taking her dinner she had just prepared off of the stove, she was unable to stop herself from looking out the window at her neighbors house with longing. 

Logan deserved more than her anyway.

By midnight, Marie was stretched out on the couch watching the newest episode of Cake- ocalypse with a box of fruit snacks, her hair laying limp on the top of her head and wearing a pair of gray sweatpants with white paint splotches from when she and her mother had to repaint the kitchen. “Messy” was a good term for the stylish look, one fit for runways for sure. She figured no one would be seeing her for the rest of the weekend so clearly she was in no need of anything more than the most basic clothing necessities.

_Knock, knock._

What was that one phrase her momma hated her using? Oh, yeah. Speak of the devil.

Darting from the woman covered in batter which made it look like her skin was melting off, she glanced at the front door wearily. Her stomach churned as it rationalized that if she just didn’t answer, whoever was on the other side would go away. It was too early for her mother to be home, and anyone else was unimportant. All of those stranger danger videos had actually helped, and right now she was going to use her constitutional right to ignore.

Unless it was Logan. 

On second thought, he didn’t usually come over at all, let alone this late at night. Still, she stood up and carefully made her way to the door, hand lying quietly on the wood as she stood on her tip toes to look through the peephole her father had installed years before. 

No one.

Fine, if someone was going to play ding dong ditch with her door, she wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of opening it. They were probably hiding in the bushes across the street at that very moment, giggling quietly to themselves.

Marie turned back around, taking four wide steps before plopping back onto the couch. Yet, something was nagging at her brain. She wasn’t sure why, but there was a feeling in her stomach telling her that something wasn’t quite right.

After a minute of solitude and no more knocks sounding throughout the house, she let out a sigh of relief. Hiding away from the world seemed like a perfectly wonderful idea to her right-

_Whack! Whack! Whack!_

Instincts removed her from her seat, her heart now pounding like a freight train as she fought back the urge to cry. Now, Marie’s not a jumpy person. at least not that big of one, she swears. She was well aware that she could continue to ignore it, or even call the police, and that she should most certainly not open the door. But, that’s the thing.

_Whack!_

The fist beating down weren’t hitting the hulking wood of the front door.

_Whack! Whack!_

They were slamming down repeatedly on the less than hulking glass of the window. The window that was right above the back of the couch she had just been stretched out on, which only had dirty blinds that weren’t fully closed. Meaning whoever this was could see her. Could have been watching her.

Her stomach was in knots as she tried to think around the pounding noise that soon muddled together with the pounding in her skull.

Call the police? _Whack._

Her mom? _Whack._

Barricade herself in her room upstairs and hope to God the intruder doesn’t realize she doesn’t even have a _god damn door_ because her mom saw she had a facebook when she was 15 and decided to teach her a lesson on privacy? _Whack! Whack! Whack!_

Her fingers were soon gripping her hair, tearing at the strands in a less than gentle way. She couldn’t hardly breathe, much less think with this person trying to burst through the window like the kool-aid man.

Therefore, her only option was to rely on compulsion.

She and Logan had gotten into an argument before when he was letting her drive his truck for practice, since her momma never let her. She had been doing perfectly well, honestly. Driving a stick shift proved to be much more difficult than she anticipated, but overall, Marie thought back on the time with some smugness of her skill. That, of course, was until the stop light before her turned yellow and Marie automatically hit the breaks, despite having had time to make it through. The stop wasn’t the smoothest, it causing Logan to almost dent the dash with how hard his hand slammed down on it to keep his body from slamming forward. 

Marie had apologized profusely, barely paying enough attention to see where a older maroon car skidded through the intersection at blinding speed despite her light still being yellow. They both stopped speaking, looking ahead of them where they could have been T-boned. Marie could have watched Logan get killed beside her, and that was one hell of a sobering thought. 

“ _Marie_ ,” Logan had said, breaking the silence. “ _Trust your instincts_.”

Her feet tore through the house with the swiftness of a prey in hunt, practically ripping the back door handle off- furthest exit from the window- as she propelled herself off the back porch and into the browning grass. She slid along the ground, a poorly thought out sharp turn bringing her face-to-face to the shadowy figure nearly destroying her window. She didn’t mean to do it, but a whimper found its way passed her lips, basically throwing a flashing neon sign above her head that read “Escaping Witness Right Here!!!”

She saw the shadow of his face then, and before she could comprehend it, an uncontrollable sense of dread sucked all other feeling from her like a black hole located in the pit of her stomach, aching and gnawing, dragging her back from the man. Suddenly, her thigh was throbbing where her old wound had healed.

“Logan!” The name barreled out of her mouth, her bare feet once again digging into the dirt to help her speed up so that she could slam right into his front door. “Logan, please open the door!”

If she wasn’t so scared, she would be pissed off that it was taking him so long to answer the door. What the hell happened to six seconds? She could be dying! In fact, if he took any longer, that was a very likely possibility.  She hoped to God he was even home.

“Logan, open the damn door!” She heard footsteps running up behind her, bringing with them a wave of fear that she had tried to push back and replace with bravery. He was almost to her, she knew it. He was almost to her and he was going to kill her. He was going to beat her. He was going to grab her by her shoulders and yank her away from everything she ever knew and loved. “Oh god, Logan!”

She could feel his presence behind her, his breath chilled her neck, seeping through her skin and dripping down her spine. She could almost taste his rage as he reached out for her-

The door swung open, leaving her to ungracefully fall inside, face first. “Marie?”

“There’s a…There’s a man,” She croaked out, her cheek still against the cold tile floor.

“What?” Logan’s voice slowly faded off, followed by his foot steps exiting the house.

She heard the door slam shut, but it was too hard and slowly creaked back open. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she could make out his deep throaty yell through the air, but it sounded like an animal.

Then it was gone.

She couldn’t tell you how long she sat there, knees pulled up to her chest as her breathing fought against her to even out. 

Her legs were beginning to go numb and her eyes felt tired and heavy. She was barely able to comprehend when the door finally opened fully, a big man walking through, only to drop to his knees once the door was closed. “Marie,” he whispered to her, rough and thick, but it was within both of those features that she found her safety. “Kid, just breathe. Everything’s okay.”

Like a puppy to it’s owner, she immediately keened to his voice. “What happened?” She tried to sound normal, but she heard the childish tint in her own voice. This was the one time she’d be okay with allowing her true immaturity to seep through. It had only been a minute or two of terror, but it felt like a life time. 

She stiffened when she felt his hand reach around her, pulling her into his warm chest that smelled of his linen detergent and sweat, his ginormous fingers calming as they rubbed down her spine. “It was some kid you graduated with. He thought it’d be funny to screw with you,” he grumbled.

She pulled back at that, surprised that she was high enough on anyone’s radar to grant such a visit. “What did you do to him?” The accusation was clear, not that she minded if he kicked the guy into next week.

“I told him to go home, that I was more than willing to let his mother know what he had done. Not sure why every teenager thinks that anyone over the age of twenty-five automatically knows who their parents are, but it worked.” Logan then smirked at her, comforting all her fears in that one moment. “Not before I shoved my foot up his ass, though.”

Now, she was the one laughing. She wasn’t sure if it was from a place of actual humor, or just all of her emotions finally seeing an out and taking it without question, but either way, she was soon doubled over with laughter, tears falling freely. Logan’s hand was still on her back, a smile on his face but his eyes lingered on her with worry. She didn’t know if she had ever been more thankful for someone. 

The laughter only lasted so long, however. 

Marie's tears of crazed emotions fed into something deep within her, shoving and shoving on the dam until one small crack became a conglomerate of shatters that, although it did its best, just couldn't continue to hold back the truth.

Logan's smile fell from his face as soon as he saw the change in her own, the tears growing heavier and more adamant. Her soft cries transformed into a tear in the atmosphere of the room, taking Logan's careful calmness with it. The gentle hold he had on her was gone, and in its place were his thick arms nearly taking the air right from her lungs, but it was okay. He let her tears ruin his clothes so that she wouldn't have to deal with the fact that anything could have happened to her if that guy had gotten inside, and she let him constrict her to the point of gasping so that he could ignore the feeling in his gut that told him he should have sent that guy to the hospital.

She could probably chalk it up to nerves if she really needed to.

She was just so caught up in the moment, she couldn’t help herself.

No matter what caused it, she soon found her arms around his neck, warm lips pressed against the skin of his cheek, salty wet tears smearing against his beard, a silent thank you in what little air there was between them.

It was over just as quickly as it began. She hadn’t tried to make him uncomfortable, but from the slightly green complexion and the bulged eyes, he either ate a bad dinner or she had failed.

This was the kind of thing that made a young, impressionable lady like herself insecure.

“I-I’m sorry, Logan. I didn’t mean to freak you out. Just- I just wanted to say thank you.” The words came out in a jumbled mess, he probably couldn’t even tell what she had said. She felt how sick he looked all of a sudden. Scrambling to her feet, the young woman grabbed at the door to leave when his hand easily slid passed hers, pushing it shut.

Marie’s breath caught in her throat as his breath rustled her hair. “You’re not going back there tonight,” he spoke, but his tone was different now. It was easily more reserved, as if he was speaking to a stranger.

She hadn’t intended to take the long way when looking back at him. She _definitely_ hadn’t intended to follow the path of his muscular arm back up to his stoic face, blue eyes piercing hers. “I’m sure I’ll be okay,” she squeaked.

He didn’t bother answering, clearly stating that it wasn’t an option. “I’ll sleep on the couch, you can take my bed.” His words barely registered with her, as she was taking in his home for the first time. They’d spent hours upon hours talking in his yard, or on his porch, or even on hers sometimes. She had always imagined what kind of atmosphere Logan lived in. She had to admit she was surprised and… Kind of disappointed. He was incredibly mysterious, so seeing that his house was the exact opposite was anticlimactic. Everything was neat and clean, the couch had a furry dark blue blanket draped over an arm rest, a large flat screen TV hung on the wall of the living room. She could see from where she stood that the kitchen was no less neat, and she highly suspected his room to be the same.

Marie’s eyes caught something then, unable to move past it. “Is that…” Her feet began taking her further towards the kitchen, gaze still firmly set on the refrigerator before her. Logan followed her stare and immediately realized what she was so transfixed on. “Is that me?”

Cursing himself for not ever considering she might come inside his home, Logan just played dumb to avoid conflict. “Yeah, guess I forgot to take it down.”

“That was nearly a year ago,” Marie tells him doubtfully, finally turning away from the image of herself plastered on Logan’s fridge like a proud parent does with their childs artwork. She sees his stiff stance and understands that he isn’t comfortable discussing it. After everything that he did for her tonight – hell, in the past few days -  she can let this one slip. He deserves at least that much. “Where am I staying again?”

Logan grumbles something along the lines of, “I already fuckin’ told you that, kid,” and Marie just laughs while following  him to wherever he planned on taking her. 

It wasn’t until they made it to a door that his words from before finally sunk in. “You want me to sleep in your bed?”

Logan looked back at her over his shoulder, “I’m not letting you take the couch. Especially not after what just happened.”

“I can’t take your bed, Logan.” Although she wanted to. “This is your house.” She was actually pretty fine with it. “I don’t want to intrude.” Lie after lie fell from her lips.

“You’re taking the bed and that’s final.” He stopped in front of a shut door, lifting his large arm and hand, twisting the knob and after what felt like an insanely long amount of time to open a damn door, the white rectangle of wood moved to reveal a medium sized bedroom with dark gray walls, a black king sized bed with a charcoal bedframe. There was a single white rug, but other than that, nothing was on the floor. Everything was in its place, reminding her just how messy her own room was.

She made a mental reminder to clean it as soon as he let her go home.

“If you want to take a shower or anything, there’s towels in the bathroom and I can grab you a shirt and some shorts.” Oh man, this just kept getting weirder and weirder. _His_ shirt and shorts? She wasn’t sure if she was able to handle that. Don’t tell anyone, but she had been harboring a crush on this man ever since he moved in next door. _Alright, fine. It was no secret._ And now, she was an adult, sleeping in his bed, probably in his clothes. Leave it to her to be too shocked to say anything when such an opportunity presented itself.

“Thank you,” she barely managed, keeping eye contact with him.

His reserved face melted away at that, leaving the smile that she couldn’t describe as anything less than heartwarming in its wake. “Of course, kid.”

Ah, kid. The heartwarming term of endearment that reminded her he felt nothing for her besides some good old fashioned brotherly love. He turned to leave, and it suddenly washed over her that she didn’t want him to go. It couldn’t be later than ten o’clock and she didn’t want to be left alone. However, he seemed to be escaping her, his body retreating through the door frame. “Logan?”

Stopping immediately, the enormous man spun around and looked her over with concern, like she was about to tell him that someone was banging on this window too. When he cared that much, she’d be an idiot not to be half in love with him. “Yeah?”

“Will you,” she felt a disgustingly thick blush creep down her neck. “Will you stay with me?” After the words were out, she realized how strange they might have sounded, so she quickly tried to do damage control. She wasn’t sure if her heart would be able to handle the green make its way back to his face again. “I mean, can you keep me company for a while? I’m just a little shaken up.” There, that sounded better.

“Well,” his hand rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought you were going to take a shower, and I don’t think it’s a great idea for me to keep you company in there.”

She almost made a list of all the reasons that was a _great_ idea, but then her dire position caught up with her and she remembered he saw her as the child she had always been to him. Not to mention, why would he want her? 

She had half a mind to run outside and track down the boy who’d nearly given her a heart attack earlier and ask him to do the honors-she'd even supply a knife. Yet, she settled for just dying over and over and over again inside.

“I didn’t mean… I meant…” This was quite the awful situation.

His throaty laugh made her look up at him, seeing his eyes squinted made her embarrassment ease up, even if only slightly. “I’m kidding, Marie. I know what you mean. I’ll stay with you, but only if you jump in the shower and stop shaking like a leaf on a tree.” Marie glanced down at her own pale fingers, watching quietly as they trembled. “I’ll go ahead and grab you some clothes, alright?”

Her body was incapable of doing anything other than nodding, still struck in wonder at how easily he was able to overcome such an embarrassing moment and make it seem like it never happened at all. She thought back to when she saw him speak to her mother and he had never been anything less than emotionless. It was weird seeing the difference in reaction when he spoke to either of them, even her mother had noticed it. She had just presumed it had to do with Marie and him being so close, as if he was like an older brother to her.

The very thought made her want to puke violently all over his pristine white rug.

The bathroom was much like the rest of his house, and so she got a sense of pleasure by dropping her clothes messily on the floor, enjoying the small chaos among the cleanliness. Stepping over them, she pulled back the white shower curtains and stepped into the linoleum shower. The coolness spread throughout her body, causing her to shiver as she reached for the hot water knob. She let the frosty water rain down beside her while waiting for it to heat up, small cold splatters landing on her leg and turning the air frigid.

For the first time, she looked around at her cleaning options. A used light brown colored soap, off brand shampoo and conditioner, and a neatly folded rag stared back at her.

These were all things he used often, untouched by another person. He lived alone, she wasn't meant to be here. Suddenly she felt like the intruder.

She had never seen another person enter his home, these floors were walked on by only him, the shower only used by him. Then out of nowhere, she was destroying the original plan laid out. Her tracks have been left in the floor, and they were only piling up. It just felt wrong.

Not that that was going to stop her. She’d been waiting to see what his house looked like for years. She didn't need to think about the fact that it took some teenage kid scaring her to get her in there.

Steam was now coming from the water, so she stretched her right foot before stepping into the current, the warmth putting her into a trance for the next hour.

She was covered in a towel when she emerged from the bathroom, expecting the clothes he brought her to be on the bed. Or perhaps on the dresser near the door. Or even on the floor for her to grab quickly.

What she did not expect was for him to be laying on the bed, the clothes she needed to cover herself pulled to his side, his eyes closed as he held his pillow tightly to his peaceful face. Perhaps he took so long opening the door earlier because he had been sleeping?

The couch would be more than comfortable for her, she decided.

At first, she thought that maybe he was just napping and that he would wake up if she made any noise. This was debunked when she heard Logan breathe lightly but evenly, a sign of deep sleep. She was in the clear. 

Houston, we have lift off.

Her small feet began the journey to her succor, a sleeping giant her main obstacle. When she got to him, she had to stop to appreciate him. He was incredibly handsome. It was beyond her how he wasn't married (not that she was complaining). The thought of another woman being able to see the face she was seeing then was enough to make her grab for the clothes, no longer feeling much fear amongst the pang of jealousy.

However, it seems as if fear is exactly what she should have been feeling. When she had the clothes in hand (Houston, we have landed), she let her guard down entirely, figuring the peril was gone. The hero had safely made it to the ending of the story without any problems arising, right? Wrong. What kind of story would that be? A terrible one.

Her towel was hanging a bit too loose, her legs were a bit too wobbly after the long shower, the entire plan was much more complicated than originally assumed, and Logan was apparently a hugger. These four problems came together to create one big ass disaster.

Before she could safely extract the clothing, the enormous sleeping beasts hands were locked onto her arms, yanking her from safety and depositing her deep into the depths of The Danger Zone. “The Danger Zone” being his chest. Even worse, her loose towel caught under her knee as she was pulled onto the bed like a doll, and now lay on the floor where she had once stood (Houston, we have a problem.)

A rescue mission seemed out of the question, and Logan had gone from holding his pillow tightly to holding _her_ tightly. This should have been a dream come true and yet she was terrified. Every bone in her body was shivering with fear, and her heart wanted to burst.

“Logan,” she whispered, hand nudging his shoulder. She felt a rumble deep within his chest, hoping to see his eyes pop open. Instead, his arms wrapped around her further and his face nudged into the crook on her neck, fingers gripping her back through her dark wet hair. Her heart was thumping like a winning racehorse and she mentally scolded herself for being so weak. “Logan,” she tried again, bringing her hand up to touch his cheek. The facial hair scratched the pads of her fingers in an almost mesmerizing way which she had to fight hard to ignore. “Logan, please wake up.”

She watched as his peaceful face contorted into that of pinched irritation. “Hmm?” He mumbled, pulling her even closer into him. Her bare chest was pressed tightly to his covered one and she was sure she was going to puke. He’d be disgusted if he knew what he was doing. Marie had no doubts that he at the very least found her too young. He called her "kid" for Christ's sake!

“You have to let me go, Logan,” she gently patted his face, waiting for his eyes to open.

She got her wish.

When they opened, they nearly closed again a few seconds after glancing at her in his arms. If she wasn’t so nervous, she’d be curious as to why he snuggled in closer. But right before the two lids met, they shot open and he sat up immediately, nearly throwing her off of the bed before he grabbed her hand to keep her nude body from slamming into the floor.

“What the hell happened?” he bellowed out, fumbling beside himself to grab the clothes she had been trying to get that were now scattered on the floor. Instead, he settled for removing the sheet from the bed and wrapping it around her. “Where are your clothes? Why are we in bed together? What did we do? Why don't I remember any of it? Did I do anything to you? Are you okay?” The questions flowed freely from his mouth and his expression became increasingly more concerned while somehow managing to grow angry. He had found the clothes on the floor and reached down to grab them, seemingly upset at the state they were in. Probably only furthering his assumptions.

“Please stop with the questions! Nothing happened, Logan.” She grabbed the clothes from his hands a little too quickly, slamming her elbow into his headboard. “Ow,” she groaned while rubbing the new area emitting pain.

Logan was leaned over the bed in an instant, gently pulling on her arm and looking as if she had just gotten shot instead of hitting her funny bone. “Are you alright? Marie, what did we d-”

“Logan, I told you, nothing happened,” she gently assured him with a small smile. The worry in his eyes lessened, and she had to say it hurt. She, among others, didn't always see herself in the most positive light, so for a man that she’d always found highly attractive to show tangible relief at the fact that he hadn't done anything sexual with her was sort of damaging.

She took the clothes into the bathroom to change without another word, and emerged a new person. And not just in the sense that she was now wearing clothes, but in the sense that she was no longer delusional enough to have hope in this man that was much older than her ever seeing her as a romantic equal. Obviously that didn’t mean Marie was over him or suddenly _not_ wanting to jump his bones. It just meant she was aware that her unrequited crush would remain as such. 

It was okay, really. What would they talk about anyway? How when he was in high school, she was learning her ABC's? Besides, now she can explore more options for herself. She’d been half in love with him for so long, she’d neglected many possibilities for other potential unrequited love interests. 

This is a good thing. 

This has to be a good thing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it? Hate it? Preferably not the latter? Let me know! It keeps me writing.


	7. What If I Came Knocking?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan contemplates his 'feelings' for Marie, and someone comes knocking on the mother and daughters front door. Who could it be?

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#  **Chapter 7- What If I Came Knocking?**

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##  **Logan**

He shouldn't be in here. He’s well aware of the fact, not like it's rocket science.  

But he doesn’t want to leave her. Even after everything, even after seeing  _everything_. God, the girl had been naked in his arms. At first, it had felt like a dream. She was there and he was content. Logan wasn’t exactly proud of it, but for the first few seconds after waking up, the only thing he felt was happiness and possession. His grip had tightened around the frightened girl in arms and all he thought about was how she was _his_ and no one elses.

But when he realized she wasn’t actually  _supposed_ to be there, that her being in his arms didn’t actually happen in the real world, he’d felt anger, but more than anything he felt the guilt bubble up inside of himself, threatening to boil over quickly. She had looked so scared. He had done that to her. That was something he never wanted to do, and he’d done it.  

Resigning himself internally, he had to figure out how to justify this. There was nothing romantic about her being here, in his bed. She's just someone he'd consider a friend and he wanted to make sure she was safe. That's all. 

And since her safety was important to him- possibly the most important thing to him- it also made sense that he chased after that kid that tried to scare her. He may have come back if he didn't get any consequences, and there's no way in hell Logan would let that happen. He'll admit maybe his tactics were more violent than the older male neighbor-friend should have employed, but the kid clearly didn't have any common sense. He'd like to think of it as hands-on teaching. 

He wasn't even thinking. Everything he did after Marie collapsed in his house was instinct, plain and simple. Without a thought, he was out the door, looking for any traces of a person by her house. 

_He found him out the corner of his eye stumbling through the bushes of one of the neighboring yards, and like that, he was off. He couldn't recall a time when he had ran faster than he did then. Maybe it was because he was filled with a type of rage he'd never felt before, or maybe it was because he'd never wanted something so badly. No matter what it was, he was tearing up the pavement behind him, quickly catching up with the bastard._  

_As soon as he was in arms reach,_ _Logan_ _had torn him from his path and crashed him onto the concrete. He heard the_ _guys_ _head slam down, and a deep groan filled the air. An aluminum bat clunked beside him, rolling into the grass. The black hood slid off of his shaved head as he tried to get up, revealing someone about_ _Marie's age. For some reason, this didn't deter_ _Logan_ _from wanting to beat the shit out of him._  

_“Who the hell are you, kid?”_  

_He didn't respond, and in_ _Logan’s fury, he wrapped his hand under his chin and yanked his head up to look into his eyes. He wanted him to feel fear. He didn't want this boy to ever go near_ _Marie_ _again. He wanted him to wake up screaming and think about how_ _Logan’s eyes looked almost red on that night, and for his nightmares to no longer be filled with turning up for a test in his underwear or spiders and clowns, but_ _Logan. He wanted to install fear into him, and he'd be damned if he didn't do it._  

_“I asked you a question, dickhead. Answer it.”_  

_“My name is John,” he croaked out, and for a moment, he thought he might have just been a mistaken kid. “Now can you get your fucking hands off of me, old man?”_  

_“If you're trying to make me squeeze harder, you did one hell of a job,”_ _Logan_ _told him, his thick fingers applying more pressure before he finished his sentence. “Tell me why you were trying to break into that house.”_  

_He flashed his teeth at him, “what house?”_  

_Images of_ _Marie_ _screaming for him played like a movie in his mind, the sounds of her crying and beating on the door slowly being drowned out by coughing and gargling. It took him a several seconds to realize he had slid his hand down a little lower and had begun choking_ _the boy, his eyes bulging out of their sockets in a nearly satisfying way. It took him a few more_ _seconds_ _to figure out whether or not that's what he wanted to do._  

_After he had decided to_ _reign in the murderous_ _tendencies-albeit hesitantly-_ _he released his neck and opted for dragging the little asshole up by his shirt._  

_“Don't give me any crap right now, boy. I don't know if it's obvious, but I'm in a pretty shitty mood at the moment. Why did you do it?”_  

_“Because I thought it'd be fun,” he answered almost immediately. “Marie_ _always walked around school, oblivious to nearly everything, oblivious to me.” The laugh that escaped him was nothing short of malicious. He felt a chill go down his spine. “I figured it would be fun to give her a_ _wake up_ _call. Everyone around town knows that her mother’s a drunk and leaves her every night, so I thought 'why not go say hi?'”_  

_“_ _So_ _you decide to break into her house instead of saying hello to her in the middle of the day like a normal person?” The boy was insane._ _Logan_ _could see it in his eyes, he was unstable and dangerous. And he had been moments away from hurting_ _Marie._  

_He finally looked up into_ _Logan’s eyes, no fear in sight. “What's it to you anyway, old man? You_ _shackin_ _' up with her slutty mom or something? Trying to keep the precious little_ _Marie_ _safe?”_  

_It felt like he was inside of_ _Logan’s stomach, twisting and kicking at every little thing he could reach._ _Logan_ _felt hatred to his core. How did this kid turn out so awful? “Don't talk about her mother like_ _th_ _-”_  

_“Wait a minute. You're not fucking her mom, you're fucking her!” He shouted, loud enough for anyone outside within the block to hear._ _Marie_ _was still probably by the door, she could have even walked outside to see if he was okay. “I knew she wasn't the little virgin they made her out to-”_  

_He didn't mean to break his nose, but the sound of bones crunching did calm him down a bit. Like he said, everything he did at that point was instinctual._  

_Logan_ _took a step back from him, wiping the blood on the back of his pants as it slowly dawned on him that he had just assaulted a_ _near child in the middle of the road. Even worse, it felt great.._  

_“You broke my nose!” he screeched, his_ _rebellious_ _persona washing away with his tears._  

_“I can break something else if you don't get the hell out of here in the next fifteen seconds.” He started counting off on his fingers, the clumsy pounding footsteps nothing but background noise by the time he reached the first pinky._  

There was no need to tell Marie about some of the choice words spoken, especially about her and her mom, so he kept it to a bare minimum. Thinking back on it, the kid was lucky he didn't do worse. To talk about Marie and her mom like that... Even now, his fist curled up in an irate way.

Drawing himself from his memory, he looked over to Marie asleep in his bed. Her face was satisfied. In fact, she looks almost happy, and for a moment, so did he. 

What could their life have been like if he had met her after she was already an adult? Not exactly the romantic type, the thoughts of a white picket fence, two kids, and prius didn’t exactly do it for him. But having her there in his bed every night? Yeah, a man could get used to that. And if in that alternate reality she someday would casually mention marriage after a night of especially intense fucking, he couldn’t promise he wouldn’t be waiting at the door of the nearest jewelry store for them to open the next morning. _Fuck,_ if she had his ring on her finger, something inside Logan would probably have broken because there’s no way life could ever get that perfect.

His paradise is soon ruined, however when she rolls over and out of the covers an exposed leg appears. He’s reminded for the thousandth time tonight of what happened earlier. Even worse, he’s reminded of what could have happened. 

This isn’t that alternate reality where Marie is in her mid twenties and in love with him.

‘ _She’s just a kid, you perverted old man.’_

He’s an awful person, there's no other way to explain it. His teenage neighbor had been naked in his arms. He didn't remember how in the hell she got there, but the point is that she had been there. He was supposed to be taking care of her, and instead he took advantage of her. She had every right to hate him, he wouldn't blame the girl a bit. 

Lord knows how she even managed to fall asleep, she's probably terrified of him. He’s terrified of himself. 

“Logan?” 

Her voice unhinged him for a moment, but he made a quick recovery and answered her before it seemed suspicious. 

“Can you check and see if my mom's made it home yet?” 

It had been such an innocent request, so far from where his mind had been for the last few hours. He only nodded at her and exits the room without a word. What kind of asshole was he? The kind that knows he's being an asshole and continues anyway. The worst kind. 

A quick look out of the window reveals the sun and the beat up green 1986 Volkswagen Jetta in Marie's driveway. With closer inspection, he sees the outline of a person asleep in the front seat. How cruel is the universe to give someone as kind as Marie a mother like that? 

When he made his way back into his bedroom, Marie was almost asleep again, so he made the decision to lie to her. He didn't want to, but he also didn't want her to see her mother like that, and so he did it anyway. If she ever found out about it, she'd probably hate him even more, but at this point, it may be worth it to keep her happy. To keep her safe. 

“Marie?” Her head lifted and he saw her bright eyes looking back at him and strangely enough, he sees no resentment. A small smile on the edge of her lips. “She's not home yet.” The disappointment and concern in her eyes bloomed like a flower covered in thorns, and he just wanted it to go away. “It's still early, chipmunk. Why don't you sleep some more and if she’s not back in an hour or so, I'll go look for her.” 

If she wasn't so tired, he knew for a fact that she'd already be out the door looking for her mom, but she was already almost asleep again while muttering “thank you”'s and “you're the best”'s. 

He didn't believe it, but it felt somewhat uplifting to hear her say it. He felt the sleep starting to consume him, so he made his way to the couch. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was gone. 

He didn't know what time it was when he heard someone walking towards him. He’d already sat up, fist lifted in defense when he opened his eyes to see Marie standing before him in his clothes with a look of surprise before it slowly melted into a giddy smile that was followed by laughter. It wasn’t her naked in his bed, but it was still one hell of a way to be woken up. 

“Put your guns down, Sundance,” she teased, walking closer to him. “My mom is home now and I wanted to say thank you for everything before I left.” 

“The fact that you just made that reference made it all worth it.” Her palm shoved his shoulder, another laugh escaping her. “No, but really kid. There's no need to thank me.” 

The humor from her face left and he watched as her dark hair framed her pale sullen face. “Of course I'm going to thank you, you big lug. You saved my life last night.” God, she was beautiful. The longer she stood there, the longer Logan thought his only purpose in this world was to get tortured.

Suck it up, bub. 

“Nah, I just helped out.” He could tell that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. 

“How can you even say that?” Her chest huffed out, as it did when she got into a passionate discussion. Next comes the hands. “How is saving me not a big deal?” As expected, she threw her hands out. “How is taking me into your home not a big deal? Or giving me your clothes to wear or your shower to use? Or letting me sleep in your bed? How is none of that a big deal, Logan?!” She was practically shaking, leaning in closer as her hot breath flooded his senses. 

“It just isn’t,” he responded casually, because if he responded the way he wanted to, she’d be half way to Mexico. 

“Of course it is! I owe you so much for what you did.” He watched her eyes water and he was well aware that she was having flashbacks of the night before. God, if only she knew that he did this all the time for her without her even knowing. She’d probably cry enough to refill the Grand Canyon. “Why can’t you see that?” 

“Because there wasn't even a possibility of me not doing it.” It had just built up inside of him. She was starting to yell and he just needed to shut her up, and so he blurted out what he had intended to keep in. “I didn't even have to think about it, you needed me so I helped you. There was no other option. That's just how it is. Jesus fucking Christ, Marie. Don’t you know by now that I’d do anything for you?” 

She took a moment to process. He could see her straining in concentration on him, trying to figure out her next move. Despite knowing her well, he didn't imagine her next move would be to lean forward and press her lips to his cheek, much like the night before, only this time it was different. So, so different. He could smell his own soap on her, the possession he thought he had finally bottled up welling inside him. Her lips lingered longer than necessary, her hand was laid gently on top of his own, she was wearing  _his clothes._  It seemed wrong after what happened the night before, but he couldn't imagine pushing her away. 

In fact, he wanted to pull her in and not let her leave his house. That way he could keep her safe and smelling like him.  

“Thank you, Logan.” The smile she aimed at him was sweeter than candy and he was beginning to feel sick at how much he enjoyed it. How much he enjoyed being the cause of it. He’d never seen anyone else draw it from her, and that was enough to have him soaring. 

He watched as she walked out of his front door, turning around in his shirt to wave quickly before closing it behind her. 

**_…_**  

****

##  **Marie**

 

“Your brother just landed about fifteen minutes ago,” her mother’s voice carried throughout the room as soon as Marie stepped into the living room after having spent the last few hours in her bedroom. Logan’s clothes were neatly folded up at the end of her bed, still smelling like his home. His house smelled completely different than her own, especially now that her mother had spent the whole day cleaning. 

The house was cleaner than she’d seen it in years. She can tell it's been dusted and mopped, all the nooks and crannies sparkling in the facade Annette thinks she's keeping with her brother. What she didn't know is that Marie talked to him once every few weeks and he knew everything she did. He was fully aware of her nightly adventures at the bar and her daily couch sitting while their grandfather paid the bills. 

“What's his ETA?” Fingers running over the coffee table, she still felt the traces of soap across the surface. “Estimated time of arrival,” Marie clarified quickly, looking up just in time to catch her confused expression. 

Her mother’s feet lightly tapped on the floor as she flittered around like a fairy, once again putting on one hell of a lie. As if she'd be able to change her entire persona in one day. “He said he'd be here in an hour or so, so however long that is now.” 

“Forty-five minutes,” she murmured under her breath, leaving her mother alone while she grabbed a banana. “What time did you get home last night?” The silence that followed was tactual. She could have reached out and slapped it to the ground, once more dirtying her now perfect home. 

“I was home early this morning. Maybe two?”  Her hair fell to one side while she swept aggressively at a spot in the floor that Marie knew for a fact wasn't going to come up. “You know how girl’s nights can be.” 

That spot on the floor was made the night when Marie realized she wasn't going to be the type of mom Marie had hoped she'd be. 

   _She came home from the bar one night with a man nearly twice her size, a nice button up_ _shirt_ _covering his chest but it didn't hide the fact that he was a disgusting pig._ _Marie_ _had felt true terror as he screamed at her mother that he wasn't her husband, and to stop calling him that. Once she had finally_ _ran_ _in, shirt hanging slightly off of her shoulders since she couldn't think beyond helping her mother, he was looming over her with his fist held high, ready to sock her right in the cheek._

_She didn't look afraid like_ _Marie_ _thought she would. If anything, she looked ready. As if she had only brought him home because she knew he'd act this way._

_That didn't mean_ _Marie_ _was going to allow it._ _Fourteen year old_ _Marie_ _was on his back in an instant, barely making him budge. His hands reached up immediately, yanking her dark hair and pulling her off over his shoulder. There had been a stabbing pain in her shoulder- which she later would learn was from him cracking her collar bone- and his fist that had once been aimed at her_ _mothers_ _cheek had redirected itself into her jaw. Her head cocked back into the floor, blistering pain filling her skull and a crack that looks like dirt that needs to be swept up appearing in the tile beneath it._  

Marie watched with something resembling disdain as she continued sweeping at the unmovable blemish in the floor. 

A knock came to the front door then. Annette looked up with dread, and Marie knew exactly what she was thinking. 

It was a strange concept to know that despite everything she had done to her daughter, she loved Marie like any mother would. Marie could see it in the way she allowed her to see her fear and wordlessly asked for help. Even if Marie wanted to say “to hell with it” and leave her mother in the dust, she simply couldn't. Because despite everything she had done, Marie loved her just as much. 

With a simple nod, she watched her terror melt just a little, but it was enough for her to take another look at the door and begin to walk towards it. Her mother turned the knob, pulling the wooden door in towards them, and they looked out to see Officer Parker on the other side. 

“Can I help you, officer?” Annette questioned. Marie saw her mother’s chest begin to heave, and she didn't have to guess why. The last time an officer showed up on their door step, her father was dead. 

Marie could tell she was about to pass out if she heard Jax's name come out of this man's mouth, and although she felt strong for the moment, she was pretty sure her head would hit the floor too. 

“Mom, why don't you go sit down, I'll get this.” Marie told her, gently pulling her arm. She turned to look at her, and her daughter saw the blank expression. “It'll be fine,” she told her quietly, but something firm was hidden behind the gentle words. Someone in this house needed to be strong, and it wasn't going to be her. Hell, it wasn't going to be Marie either, but she had always been better at lying. 

 


	8. Crumbling' Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan and Marie's normal world comes to an abrupt end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not as proud of this chapter as I would have liked, but hopefully you all enjoy it anyway.

****

#  **Chapter 8 – Crumblin’ Down**

****

##  **Marie**

After a few seconds of looking on at her daughter with the eyes of a freshly lost child, Annette agreed and stepped around to go sit down in the living room. Once Marie was sure Annette was sitting in case the worst case scenario came true, she daintily stepped out onto the porch and faced the man directly, firmly gripping the threshold of the door while digging her uneven fingernails into the wood. Wondering if she was even capable of hearing bad news, Marie opened her mouth, her throating croaking the first time. She gave a small smile, attempting to hide her fear and tried again. “Yes?”

“Good afternoon. Our county is under strict orders to relay this message from the United States Military: Please keep indoors.” He looked down at a paper he held in his hand, and she took the opportunity to look to the left and see that Logan was on his porch talking to an officer as well, his eyes slipping from the man before him to catch hers. “For your safety, we ask that you do not come outside until told otherwise by an officer of the law, or someone else of Military rank. Find somewhere safe inside, like doorways, closets, and bathtubs to hide in, and keep food and water supplied around you.” 

“Excuse me, but what is going on?” Marie asked, taking a step back until her foot was resting partially inside her home. 

He continued to read from the page, fingers gripped tightly enough to cause the thin paper to crinkle between them. For a second, she thought he was shaking. “We are not allowed to give out that information, but we ask you to follow these guidelines. Emergency vehicles will be unavailable during this time, but if need be, the St. Francis Medical Center is open. We ask that you do not drive on the roads unless it is of the utmost importance. Your vehicle will be stopped by an officer of the law, and you will be in danger.” Marie couldn't help but think of how robotic he sounded, it somehow made it more frightening. As if his reaction made it seem more real somehow. Ignoring her gaping mouth and persistent stare, he brought the page down to his side, then looked back at her. “There's bad things comin', girl. Make sure you and your mom stay inside, alright? More information will be broadcasted through television and radio, so keep those on.” 

She nodded, but when he turned to leave, a wave crashed through her and forcefully shoved questions in her mouth. “Wait. What's happening?” He didn't turn around to answer, but the questions continued falling out like she’d choke if she let them linger in her throat. “How do we get to the medical center if we can't drive? These plans don't make any sense!” Once again, no answer. Not even a fidget to show that he had heard her. “You guys are just locking us up like animals! We need  _some_ information!” She began to yell as he got in his car. 

Marie took two stairs at a time, jetting to the window of his car. She asked him to please roll down the window, hands pressed on the glass. Her breathing was ragged as she tried to find some semblence of control. This was absolute insanity. Was this a test? Was that what the planes had been about lately? What the fuck was going on?

The slightly out of breath man looked at her as if she was a rabid animal, not even human. She could see literal  _fear_ in his eyes from her touching his car. Why? Her eyes focused a bit more subconsciously, and she thought...  _Is he looking passed me?_  

Her body was torn from its position and slammed to the ground, prying the breath from her lungs. Her chin hit first, then her stomach. She got a good mouthful of dirt with impact, and could feel her brain rattle against her skull. Two officers held her down on her stomach, their voices echoing in her head like a sound effect while they told her, “you should have just stayed inside.” 

This wasn't how the day was supposed to go. She was supposed to go to the store for her mother to buy groceries to cook for Jax’s return.

Oh god.

Jax.

Was he caught up in this as well? Would they let him come home?  

She felt a pinch as one man attempted to cuff her, her elbow bending at an unnatural angle behind her. Her breathing was becoming hollow while he pushed in with his palm on the upper half of her back to keep her from fighting, but since she wasn't fighting in the first place, all it was doing was pressing the air right out of her lungs. Her hair was caught beneath her, choking her enough as it was. 

Marie had just wanted to know what was going on, and now she felt like she was going to die. It was all happening too fast. Time was flying past her and she just needed to dig her heels into the Earth and tell it to _wait a damn moment_ so she could get her bearings straight!

Her vision began to darken a bit as her oxygen level depleted, mouth open and gasping as her tongue slightly hung over her bottom lip. She tried to fill her lungs, but nothing would come. Gradually, things became more sluggish.

Marie wanted her father. More than anything, she wanted to hear his sweet voice telling her everything was going to be okay. Everything would be alright. He had always been the one to comfort her when things were ugly, and she just knew he'd be the only one to help in this situation. She could practically feel his long fingers caressing her cheeks, almost in a welcoming way. She wanted to go to him. Would he let her go to him?

Her ears perked up, but not with the sound of a flowy male voice she so desperately longed for. Instead, Marie heard a deep clunk.  Boots stomped down in front of her, and on the tip, she saw a lady bug. 

It was the wrong season for lady bugs. 

“The hell is wrong with you?” A thick voice that she recognized as Logan's demanded, shoving one of the large men off. She rasped from the lack of pressure, wheezing as she shoveled her fingertips into the dirt surroundng her in an attempt to sit up. Marie grabbed her chest like she could physically tear it open and allow more air in, her eye sight slowly coming back to her while she dazily watched Logan shove one of the cops onto the ground before him. The man fell to his knees, and Marie wanted to laugh at the change of authority. “She wasn't tryin' to attack him and you damn well know it!” 

One of the two men turned on Logan with a grunt, pulling out a long black stick from the loops on his belt. He looked apprehensive, but on the end of the stick, she saw something shining. Something wet.   

“Logan…” Marie whined, having a good idea of what exactly that liquid was.

“Get in your house, sir,” the officer told him. 

Marie managed to wheez out, “Logan, jus' listen to them.” She breathed, her hand finding her chest as it pumped in and out violently. 

“I will when they let this  _non-threatening_ girl go,” Logan said, not backing down. He was built and tall. She could see how they would find him intimidating. The officer looked at the other, seemingly debating their choices. “Either you let her go, or you take me,” he said, but anyone who heard it knew what he was implicating. If a 6’2”, 220 lbs man stood in front of her and basically said, “if you screw this up, you're going to have to deal with me,” she'd do what he asked too. 

“Just make sure she stays inside,” the retreating man said, speaking quickly, while kneeling down to help his buddy to his own two feet, only to go to another set of doors. She saw them turn ever so often to make sure that Logan hadn't followed them. Officer Parker was long gone, so that just left Logan and her. 

“You alright?” He asked, leaning over her with concern, rough fingertips caressing the scratched and bleeding skin of her chin. She nodded, letting her eyes close momentarily at the intense comfort she was receiving from him. The truth was, she definitely wasn’t alright, but she had to be. For her mother, she had to be. Standing up on trembling legs and turning to go inside to her mom, the young girl tried her best to calm down. His hand reached out, jerking on her upper arm so that she was facing him. “You need to be more careful, you understand? These guys aren't following the law anymore. You're gonna get yourself killed if you keep this bullshit up,” he told her, something pulsating in his cognac eyes. She ignored it and slipped her arm from his grasp. 

“It wasn't bullshit, Logan! How the hell was I supposed to know that two men would come barreling at me if I touched a cop car?” She yelled, her hands rising in the air as if trying to prove a point. She was truly upset that he decided to take his dumb hardass aggression out on her of all people. Possibly more upset than from being knocked down.“Don’t blame me for wantin’ some God damn answers!”

Logan sputtered, taken back by her sudden aggression while seemingly forgetting he had reacted similarly. “Just be more careful. Jesus, Marie. We don't have time for arguing,” he told her with a stern expression, and she huffed, walking away. She knew she was acting like a brat, but he deserved it. Everything that was currently going on and he decided to get mad at her? She was happy she didn’t have to worry about her crush on him anymore.  

Okay, so maybe that wasn’t true. 

Now’s _definitely_ not the time for that train of thought.

She ran up the porch without so much as a 'thank you', and charged into her house. “Momma, get up.” 

Her mother sat up from her place on the couch when the front door slammed into the wall. “What do you mean?” 

“They're telling us to stay inside and to hide in doorways. There's not even going to be active ambulances,” Marie breathed out, trying to maintain her emotions. Annette’s eyes opened wide and she stood up. 

Marie noticed the piece of paper in her hands then. Her fingers were twitching as she tore it into strips. “Momma,” she called to her, but her response was to shake her head and walked off down the hallway. “Momma, please! I need you here with me.” 

Marie trailed behind, only stopping when she saw Annette sit down on the floor and lift a floorboard up. Her small hand disappeared into the blackness. “What are you-” She brought it back up, and in it, Marie saw different kinds of paper. Oh no. “No, mom. You need to get up.” 

She didn't listen. He hands began expertly ripping apart the paper, and the closer she inspected, she saw that she held newspaper in her hand. Her eyes watched the paper fly through her fingertips, not moving a single muscle. They stay trained in the exact same spot, and when Marie grabbed an article before she could rip it up, she read the date. 'August 7'. “Please....” She began begging, but one look at her let me know she wasn't listening. This paper. It was the paper from the day her father died. 

She bent down in front of her mother, hands on her shivering shoulders. “Momma. You need to snap out of this. There's about to be some crazy stuff going on.” Nothing. “We could die.” Not a single motion to indicate she was getting through. “Do you think dad would be okay with this? With you zoning out and leaving me out here to deal with all of this?” 

Marie sighed when she continued grabbing her bits of paper. Within seconds, it looked like a shredder broke into the house and exploded. She didn't know what else to do, so she shook her head, saying “I'm sorry,” before lifting a hand and slapping her mother dead across the face, the noise sending a chill down her spine. 

Annette’s hands stopped, and her head slowly turned back to Marie, eyes alive and angry. “What the hell, Marie? Don't you ever touch me like that again! Who the hell-” 

“Get up! A war might be starting, and you're sitting on the god damn floor!” she cried out, glaring down at her. 

That brought her back. She looked around her for a second, getting her surroundings straight, before sprightly jumping up and leaving Marie in the hallway to stare at the torn up pieces of her daddy lying on the floor. Swiftly, Marie walked forward and snagged an untorn newspaper cover, folding it up and shoving it into her back pocket. “Marie!?” She heard screamed from the other room. Marie almost slipped as she stumbled from her mom’s bedroom.

Annette had wasted no time as she walked to the pantry, grabbing canned food and chips. “Baby, go find somewhere safe in the house. I'll grab the food and meet you there.” 

“Momma, wait. Shouldn't we find out what's going on? Can't we go to a neighbor who has a cellar?” She insisted. Why were they hiding in a house that would get destroyed the second that something big happens, anyway? 

Her mom stopped where she was, then slowly turned. “Sweetheart, I don't want you out there.” 

Marie knew she was thinking about losing her, but she didn't think anything bad would be happening while the cops were still out there. “They wouldn't risk that many lives to send out the cops. There must still be at least few hours before anything is possibly going to happen.” She could see the stubbornness in her eyes. “Momma please, just let me go look.” 

“No. Definitely not. Just stay in here.” She said with unwavering authority, shaking her head and filling up grocery sacks. Her fingers fidgeted, tearing apart more paper. So much so that she tore open one of the bags she was using, food falling out from the bottom. 

The second the can of beans hit the floor, a loud pop rocked the house and a rumbling sound seeped through the walls, following by a something similar to the sound of fireworks. Marie watched as the glass of the window her mother usually looked out of from the kitchen shattered, shards flying further into the kitchen. She dove, and her mother dropped the rest of the food. “What the hell was that?” She screamed, trembling all the way to the front door. 

“No! Marie D'Ancanto, you stay away from that door!” Annette yelled, lifting herself up to grab her. 

“I'm just going to look out and see what it was! I'll be right back, momma. I swear.” She looked her in the eyes. Her scared, pale blue eyes. “I  _will_ come back. Don't worry about me.” She gave her mother a quick kiss on the cheek before turning around and heading to the front door, her screaming her daughter’s name as she did. 

When she opened it, she definitely didn't expect what she saw. She felt like she was sitting behind a camera watching everything happen. The area was gray, as if everything was in black and white except for the orange hue in the distance. Further inspection told Marie that they were flames, not the sunset she originally thought. 

A few streets over, houses were burning. Screams were echoing everywhere. People were running down the roads, and cops were tackling them to the ground. In the distance, even more smoke. It all looked like a terrible movie, but it was real. It was here. It was in her small little town in Alabama. 

She watched the trees wavering in the distance, leaning almost to the point of breaking. Others were broken, blocking driveways and turning lanes. 

Above, the sky was lined with planes. So many planes. She focused on one for a moment too long, and watched as something fell out of the bottom of it. When the thing hit, a detonation followed after, demolishing a house and whatever, or whoever, was inside. The wind picked up and the blastwave hit, blowing the hair back from her face. 

Her hands were bleeding on the wood, the blood seeping through the cracks. 

Were these the last images she'd ever see? Burning chaos in her home? 

Her eyes strained against the image. Her heart raced in her chest. Her stomach churned, and her thoughts thundered. 

_We're all going to die._  

A child screaming ripped her out of her haze. She spun around to see several cops grappling a family down on the lawn. They looked like monsters. These were the things that children feared hid under their beds and camouflaged in their closets at night. 

“We told you to stay inside!” They were barking at the family. 

“What, so we can burn to a crisp like our neighbors? We have a child!” a man yelled, struggling to get free. Her eyes darted around to see similar activity happening, other monsters dooming whole families. 

A blur slipped through the air, and with it she heard a grunt. _Logan?_ She didn't even think before turning to shut the front door and took off down the porch, feet sliding on the grass beneath her. 

His colossal frame was heading straight towards the cops at a speed she didn’t think possible. She detected the resoluteness in his steps, her own steps weak and wounded in comparison. That basically explained their personality differences. He was strong where she was weak. It had always been that way, he helped her with her problems, yet he never seemed to have any. 

She was almost to him when she saw a police car trunk was open. It could be empty, but there also could be hand cuffs that Logan could use to detain these… Monsters. Her path changed, feet suddenly bee-lining to the abandoned car. She soared with elation when she saw that inside was a night stick and at least a dozen gas masks. She looked over her shoulder at the end of the street that was burning, and watched with suspicion as the smoke billowed into the air. These assholes knew what was coming and all they told them to do was “wait it out”. 

“Logan!” Marie cried, snatching a handful of masks after putting one on herself. He turned and she pointed at the fumes in the air, “the smoke!” 

Logan raced to her and forced the objects from her grasp while picking up the night stick. Without reluctance, he walked up behind one of the cops, and slung the stick to where it landed a sickening blow on the back of the man's head. His body slapped the earth, blood pouring from his wound and soaking into the dried soil. 

Ignoring the hands raised in defeat, Logan jammed the toe of his boots into the surrendering officers gut before punching the last in the jaw. She watched in awe (or horror) as he handed the family the rest of the masks except for one, then slid it with reckless abandonment onto his own head, his mind on something else entirely. 

**_…_**  

**__**

##  **_Logan_ **

 

He felt the coolness of the night stick in his hand as he walked behind a man with his knee in a crying child's back two houses down. Something in him just... Cracked. He’d seen some men get beat, hell he’d definitely seen some women get their asses kicked, but something about the way a child looks at a grown up when they get hit sends him on a rampage that he can't come back from. Logan was sure as hell not a good man by any means, but watching a child’s expectations get crushed by the violence of an adult they’re supposed to be able to trust brought out a new rage inside of him.

He thought he heard a pop when he brought the weapon down on his skull, but it wasn't really high on his priorities to make sure that man was okay.

“Sir, what you are doing is illegal.” The last officer stood, his hand reaching behind his back. 

“Ever hear about those in glass houses?” Logan asked quickly before clenching his fist and allowing it to sail directly into the mans temple, then shoved him onto the dirt face down. Remembering Marie’s face covered in dirt when he helped her get away from the cops earlier, Logan didn’t think twice before pushing his head further into the gravel with the bottom of his boot, hoping he got a mouthful. “They should learn to shut the fuck up.” 

Logan lifted his hands back up to his mask to make sure it was secure before turning around. His eyes automatically found Marie, as if he was a metal detector and she was a steel beam.  He watched as she was currently running back towards her home. “Marie!” he roared, falling into step in her wake. 

He was several feet behind her, feet slapping hard against the pavement. So close, so close. If he could just…Get…A little bit closer. He heard the light whistle of something dropping through the air. This one must be close because he hadn’t heard the others.

That’s what he had been thinking when it happened. The blast demolished his house and hers into a million pieces, debris flying off like the pieces of the house had been trying to fly away the whole time but something was keeping them grounded. His stomach sunk to the ground beneath him when he saw Marie stop, hands raised to the cloudy ruins of her former home.

He watched the piece of debris fall from the sky before it hit her, knocking her to the ground in a heap. 

“No!” The yell tore through his throat, tripping over his own two feet to get to her. Something hit him in the chest and knocked him down, but he fought to sit up. About twenty feet in front of him, he saw her. She wasn't moving, wasn't responding, wasn't breathing for all he could tell. 

Images of his own mother flashed before his eyes. His mother lying face down, flames licking the room around her. He had tried to save her, tried to do anything, but the firemen wouldn’t let him go back in. He hadn’t been strong enough then, he hadn’t been able to fight them off to save her. She died and it had been all his fault. 

He couldn’t allow that to happen again.

Not to her.

God, not to _her_. 

“Marie?” He choked out while attempting to shout. Something was sticking in his throat, it felt like sand paper scraping the skin. Logan finally managed to to get his body to respond and got his knees, only to immediately double over and cough violently. “God dammit, kid! Get the hell up!” He was panting and screaming, blood and sweat blending together and running down his face. None of that mattered though. Not when she was just lying there. He picked himself up, a pronounced limp finding its way into his walk, but he wouldn’t stop until he at least got to touch her. He had to see for himself. 

When he was close enough, his knees gave out, forcing him to fall down beside her and watched her just... Lay there. 

**_…_**  

**__**

##  **_Marie_ **

 

There was a clinking in her ear, she felt an ugly hurting in her shoulder, and her ankle led her to believe it was just run over by a steam roller. She raised her hands to look at them in opposition to the sky, but the differences weren't too clear. Both were stark red. A drop of blood dripped down onto her face, yet she couldn't feel it. 

“Get up!” She heard someone shrieking in the distance. Why were they so far away? Who else had been abused by that blast? 

She coiled over with difficulty, trying to balance herself on her weak elbows. When her eyes absolved from the blurry sight, she recognized Logan right in front of her, gas mask taking the place of his face. Oh yes, that's why she couldn't feel the blood. She had one on too. But, her mother didn't. Her mother... 

She flipped over quickly, climbing to her wobbly legs and turned to run and get it to her, but stopped before she could even attempt to walk the distance. There was no distance. There was no final destination. 

Before her, her childhood home was no more. There was a burning pile of rubble where the cute little porch should be, the place where her daddy first told her about death, where she had her first kiss with a guy who walked her home in eighth grade, where she let Jax cut her hair... and the rest of the house was scattered a hundred feet in each direction, charred remains of her cute little tassels strewn twenty feet in front of her in the grass.  

“Mom...” She croaked out, staggering headfirst. “Momma!” Her voice was hoarse and useless. She experienced the world concluding around her. 

_Mom!_  I needed to get to her. 

_MOM!_  She's dead. 

Big hands wrapped around her abdomen, pulling her back. “Stop, baby girl. She's gone.” Logan told her, his face buried in her neck as he held her tight. 

“Get the hell off of me! Momma!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, tearing through the sounds of explosions, feeling like her vocal chords might rip under the pressure. Her elbow thrashed around trying to strike Logan anywhere she could. “She could be okay! I have to find her!” He needed to let her go _._  

_‘Let me go!’_  

Logan kept his hold on Marie close and snug. “There's no way,” he said, breathing in her ear. 

“Let go of me, god dammit,” she remarked, her words coming out muffled by the mask, but she was no longer flailing. She had sunk into his body. She didn't realize she was crying until the gas mask began to steam up and the tears wet her cheeks. He held her against him as she watched her home and her mother burn down in front of her. She told her she'd be back. She told her that so she didn't feel alone. Didn't feel like she was abandoning her. But, she did. She just.. Left. She left her. 

And now she's dead. 

**_…_**  

**__**

##  **_Logan_ **

 

He was disgusted with himself.

How could he tell Marie that she couldn’t try to find her mother because he saw pieces of her burning before them? No, he couldn’t. That would kill the girl.

“I left her just like my daddy. Just like Jax,” Marie whimpered aloud, but he wasn't too sure she wanted him to hear. These didn’t sound like words meant for his ears. “She just wanted to protect me, and I left her.” 

He didn't say single word. She didn't need him to. Not here, not now. 

An immense explosion knocked them both forward. His body landed on top of hers, stifling her into the dirt. He knew his body weight had to have been making her lungs feel like they were going to burst, but he couldn't manage to get off. His limbs were barely moving. She could die there, and it would have been his own damn fault. 

Marie, on the other hand, didn't fight at all. She lay beneath him weeping. He had never seen her really cry like that, not in the three years that he had been living beside her. He’d seen tears stream down her face because of fear, and once she hadn’t even realized they were there and quickly wiped them from her pale cheeks with rigor while his hands sat idly in his lap, clenching in an attempt to keep from wiping them off himself.

Now, however- now she was  _convulsing_. Her body shook, causing it to reverberate through his. He was becoming sick to his stomach. He needed get the hell off of her. 

He struggled there for a few moments, making his body move little bits at a time, until he eventually managed to gain enough strength to roll off and stand, reaching out for her. “Come on, kid.” At the sound of his voice, her body completely stilled.

She just stared at him with wide, blank eyes. He tried to talk to her again, but there was no recognition there. 

“Marie, talk to me,” he pleaded, kneeling in front of her. 

The closer he looked at her, the more horrified he became. She was just a kid, and her mother just died in front of her. The entire world is dying in front of her.  _They_ were dying in front of her. She needed time. 

But, Jesus, they didn't have any fucking time. 

He grabbed her up by her arms, then as gently as he could, tossed her frail frame over his shoulder as his legs trembled beneath him and pushed her into the open cabin of the closest cop car. 

Once he had her buckled in, he heard the slightest pick up in her breathing. He, on the other hand, was panting while running over to the drivers seat and pulling off down the road that was hardly capable of being driven on. Houses burned on either side of them. People were dying just feet away, and he did nothing. He just sat there, driving passed them. But, hell, what was he supposed to do? Be some dumb ass martyr? For what cause? 

He shifted his gaze to the girl on the other side of the car, her head laying against the window in utter defeat. How was he going to protect her? Could he? Should he? He felt his chest begin to cave in when the realization set in. If she didn't get her shit together real quick, he wouldn't be able to keep her alive. And that is not a fucking option.

 

 


	9. Hand to Hold on To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan and Marie make their way to safety, finding a familiar face along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've had this written for a while, but just made time to edit it and post it. I was a little distracted, but I wanted to get this out as soon as possible. Hope you enjoy it!

****

#  **Chapter 9**

_****_

##  _**Logan** _

“Do you know what's going on?” Marie whispered fervently as if her speaking too loudly could culminate the world as they knew it, making it difficult to hear her through the heavy masks on their heads. The unshed tears in her eyes that broke her voice squeezed at Logan’s already constricted chest for all the pain he knew she was feeling and would continue to feel for the rest of her life. To be helpless as a parent died before you, he’d never have wished that for the kid. Hell, he wouldn’t have wished that on his worst enemy.

“No,” he replied, slowing down to make a turn. “Do you know of any place outside of town that we could get clothes?”

From the look on Marie’s face, he could have guessed what she would ask. “Not exactly the time for you to be replacing those jeans you ripped, Logan.” His laughter escaped him, giving them momentary reprieve from the awful shit going on around them. His girl was a fucking riot.

“We should get out of these clothes, there’s no tellin’ what chemicals are on us and you don’t want them to have time to soak through.”

“Oh.” Marie thought back, recalling a place she had went to with her mother that Marie was always scared of because of how out of place it seemed practically in a field all on it’s own. “Down Cherry Street there’s a resale store, there’s nothing around it.”

“I know the place,” Logan agreed, taking an immediate left turn and every necessary turn until they got onto Cherry and cruised slowly. Logan decided to keep his eyes on the road in front of him, avoiding getting lost in the red haze that surrounded them. Marie on the other hand was staring out of the window with equal parts wonder and horror.

When they pulled up beside the place, Logan was thrilled to know that Marie was right, there truly was no one around. “In, then out. Grab things that are too big for you so you don’t have to try them on, leave your old clothes. All of them.” When he turned to her, he saw her nodding to his words. Good. “Ready, kid?”

“Ready,” she responded, and then they were off.

Marie was sprinting to the door, but it had been rendered moot by the fact that Logan had to kick it in. He found his own quickly, just standing guard as Marie scavenged the racks until she pulled off what looked like a t-shirt and sweatpants. He saw her hesitation when it came to the underwear, but then she quickly grabbed some things and turned to him. Before she could speak, an enormous booming noise sounded around them. A bomb had exploded, and it was much too close for comfort.

“Change! Now!”

He hadn’t even considered the fact that Marie was still watching when he rapidly removed all of the layers from his body, but when he finally did catch her eyes, she spun around with a squeak and moved further into the room, a shirt flying across the room as he buttoned his new pants.

When they were finished and Marie stepped to him drowning in her clothes, Logan grabbed her arm and pulled her along with him back out to the car where they got back on the road.

“Did you change everything?” He asked, almost entirely out of necessity.

“Almost,” Marie responded. “They didn’t have a bra my size,” she said with significantly less volume.

Logan turned his head to her, anger in his eyes. “You didn’t get rid of everything?”

“No, I did!” Her voice was shrilly, as if she was embarrassed. “I just… Couldn’t replace the bra.”

One accidental look down at her chest told him everything he needed to know, and Logan inhaled strong and hard, gripping the steering wheel with restraint. ‘Not the time, sure as hell not the place,’ he mentally chanted.

The front end was almost on the other street when they both got jerked back in their seats. Logan’s arm instinctively shot out, clutching onto Marie’s body when something hard crashed into the side of the car, the passenger wing mirror crumbling with the weight of the impact.

Outside her window, a woman with jeans and a dirty Led Zeppelin t-shirt was picking herself off of the ground. Logan immediately noticed the problem with her appearance. Her clothes were a little scuffed and it was clear that her hair had seen better days, but what actually stood out to the man was the blood gushing from in between her snarling pink lips. She quickly shifted, her ratty hair sliding in front of her face, but not before he saw that her eyes were dark as the night around her. Marie looked as confused as he felt, especially when she kicked up her back leg, digging it into the pavement and charged, slamming her fleshy body into their car once more. Marie jostled, nearly falling into his lap before Logan righted her.

“What the hell, lady?” Logan shouted, grasping for something in his mind that made this situation feel familiar. Marie jumped when the deranged woman threw herself at the car again, but this time he expected it. 

“Roll down the window, Logan! She needs help.” Marie ordered, and he considered reaching for the buttons on his door, but stopped when she continued to hit the metal. 

He squinted his eyes, removing his fingers from the door. “Nah, somethin's not right.” 

“What are you talking about? Let’s at least talk to her, Logan!” She yelled at him. When he didn't, she lifted to reach over there to let the woman in herself, flinching when he grabbed her arm. He gradually released his hold on her when he realized he had scared her, noticing how her eyelashes fluttered as she tried to puff her chest out in indignation.

“I'm telling you now, Marie. Something. Is not.  _Right_.” He turned back to look at the person outside, and Marie followed suit. The window was a little bloody now, and as he looked through, he saw more people begin to emerge from behind. Another body slammed into their car. 

Marie jumped and looked at the window behind the driver’s seat, seeing yet another person not talking but throwing themselves wildly at the vehicle. “What the fuck is wrong with them?” he growled out, pressing down on the gas. 

“We can't just leave them!” She screamed, spinning around in her seat and ignoring the pain in her abdomen to see the people following behind them before quickly changing directions and attacking another car. 

“What do you think was in those bombs?” He asked, watching as Marie lifted her hand to finger her gas mask, still present on her scuffed skin. 

She knew it was a rhetorical question, one not meant for her to answer. She did it anyway. “Some kind of poison?”

“Maybe.” He gripped the steering wheel tighter, something cramping in his knuckles, not liking where his thoughts were going. He held for a moment, trying to decide if he should even tell Marie. She was a kid, and still disturbed from watching her house explode with her god damn mother inside of it.

Logan turned his head toward her, seeing that she was looking at him with bewilderment on her lovely features. “What are you not telling me, Logan?”

Unable to deny her- something only she had managed to pry from him- he sighed loudly, turning back to stare out of the windshield and slowing down to drive around a car half in the street with flames licking its engine. “Maybe it’s just poison. But, maybe,” he heard her suck in her breath, “it’s some sort of chemical that makes them react violently. None of them have masks on, Marie. Whatever is happening to them... It's happening to everyone else,” he spoke, looking over at her. She glanced away, inhaling sharply before coughing. The fit continued for a few moments, her face growing red with the effort. 

Logan immediately stuck his hand on her leg, clenching it until she met his eyes, watching her with concern as his fingers dug into the softness of her thighs. She gave him a small, forced smile that cracked the dried blood on her cheek. They needed to get somewhere so that he could check out her injuries and clean her up, but his first concern was getting the hell out of the main part of town where everything was currently burning to the ground. Logan’s hand moved from Marie’s warm leg and reached toward the AC, quickly turning it off to cut off air flow.

 “Do you think they knew about this for a while?” Marie questioned, lifting her knees to her chest. Logan’s hand ghosted over where her seatbelt should have been connected, turning and letting a frown mar his already disgusting face. Marie quickly obliged, tugging her seatbelt over her abdomen.

“I have a feeling they might’ve.”

Marie nodded to herself, looking out of her window as blood continued to ooze down the thick glass slowly. 

A bomb exploded close by, _too close._ Several pieces of building collided with the road before them, and muscle memory kicked in as Logan expertly swung the car around it, hoping the tires of the car held up long enough for them to get far away from there.

“How long is this going to last?” Marie murmured, out of breath as if she had just ran a marathon, hand still pressed against the dash in preparation for anything else that might come.

“I don't kn-” Logan spun the car around, slamming down on the brakes as someone appeared in the smoky road. The squealing from the tires screeched loudly in his ears, and he swung his head around to see where the dumb ass standing in the road went, finding them immediately. The person was small, definitely a woman, and held their hands out.

“Anita?” Marie questioned with disbelief, her pink mouth opened as her eyes squinted in concentration to try and see the person better. A smaller figure stepped out from behind her, a little girl with a gas mask. 

The female came to the passenger side window, holding the hand of the child. “Can you let us in the car? The people around here are getting a little handsy.” 

“Anita? How did you survive!?” Marie practically leapt with joy at the revelation that not just he and her had survived. She swiftly unbuckled and jumped across him, her body brushing against his, unlocking the door and quickly scuttled back across the black leather to open the door beside her. 

“Bike girl?” The new girl asked, scooting in beside Marie and picking up the girl he could only assume was the newest person's sister. Marie moved in closer to make more room, and he immediately realized that this new seating arrangement meant Marie wouldn’t be able to use a seat belt. “How the hell did you make it out?”

“Well, we stole this cop car and some of their masks.” Marie responded quietly, and he wanted to ask her how she was handling herself, but this new girl interrupted him. 

“Yeah, we found some lying on the ground beside a car but the doors were locked.” She looked at him, or at least he thought she did. Her eyes were covered. “I'm Anita.” This new girl told him, and Logan realized he didn’t like her voice. It wasn’t soft and sweet like Marie’s. “This is Lizzy.” The small child looked at him as well, but he didn't know if she was glaring or smiling with that mask on. 

“Yeah. You got somewhere that I can drop you off?” Both Marie and what’s-her-name looked at him like he had grown a second head. “What?” 

“Jesus, Logan. Why don't we just throw them in one of the explosions and roast them?” Marie leaned back in her seat, wrapping her arms around her chest. She had this bratty little pout on her lips, knew it without even seeing it. Her eyes were constantly avoiding his and Logan didn’t like that, but he wasn’t about to say it in front of these strangers. “Or maybe we'll just rip off their masks and sit them outside, right? Who gives a damn about saving people?” She continuously chastised him. He didn’t need to tell her that she was the only one he’d ever allow to do it. She already knew, and she loved using it to her advantage.

Anita stared him down before adding. “Yeah, because it's a fantastic idea to leave a young girl with some older male stranger?” She asked, looking between him and Marie. 

“Not a stranger, cupcake. I'm a friend of hers and...” He cut himself off before he mentioned her mother. “A friend of the family.” He corrected her, turning onto another back road. Her eyes found his immediately, showing that she was grateful for the quick edit.

“Either way, no. I have nowhere else to go.  _We_ have nowhere else to go.” Anita replied, leaning against the car door. “We'll just go wherever you two are going.” His face began to heat with irritation. He didn't recall either of them inviting them to come everywhere they were going, but one look at how much more at ease Marie was kept him from speaking up about it. She had wanted to save her mother, and since she couldn’t do that, at least she got to save someone. Logan knew the feeling.

Then the little girl spoke. 

“Where are we going, Ana?” she asked, her voice really giving away how young she was. 

“We don’t even know where we're going,” Marie added, looking over at him. Logan suddenly felt like the dad of the group, taking care of his children. It was making him want to kick all of them out and just go off on his own. But, he couldn't do it. When did he become some so willing to do anything for those dark eyes? 

“Fuck.” 

**_…_**  

**__**

##  **_Marie_ **

 

Logan turned and looked at her. “We're going somewhere safe,” he said, and for a moment, she believed him. 

“Sounds exciting,” Little Lizzy said, her attention focused on Logan. 

Anita, on the other hand, just narrowed her eyes further at the older man. “You don’t have a clue where you’re going, do you?”

A sound similar to a snort escaped his mouth, leaving Marie dumbfounded. She had never seen him get irritated so quickly. Logan had a temper, don’t get her wrong, but he was usually level headed in those situations. She supposed being his age, he had time to grow patience.

“Anywhere that’s far away from you.”

“Logan…” Marie warned, but it was like she wasn’t even there.

Anita tugged Lizzy closer to her side, glaring at the man driving like he was Satan himself. “How about letting someone else drive, asshole? I don’t think it’s safe to let the elderly behind the wheel.” Her comment was emphasized by a conveniently timed blast somewhere in the distance.

Logan clenched his fist, rolling his neck without looking at the unwelcomed guest in his and Marie’s vehicle. “Asshole, huh? They teach that kind of language in middle school?”

“Yeah and they also taught me stranger danger. Maybe I should refresh Marie’s memory on the matter.”

Lizzy’s face lit up, not comprehending the animosity in the car. “I know all about stranger danger! I can teach her, Ana.”

“Don’t worry about it, half-pint.” Logan said, turning to the side with a smirk. Lizzy’s face burned red from the attention, leaving Marie to quickly realized she wasn’t the only one aware of Logan’s attractiveness. “Marie’s got me to protect her.”

“Ana,” Lizzy asked, grabbing onto Anita’s arm and making her turn away from Logan to look at the little girl. “Is he going to protect me too?”

“You got me to protect you, Lizzy-bug,” Anita said, grimace fading into a smile before looking beside her at Marie. “And you too. I’m here for you when tough guy over there suddenly croaks from old age.”

All three girls stopped talking when the car came to a stop in the middle of a vaguely familiar road. “You seem to be forgetting that I’m the one who let your ass into this car in the first place, sweetheart.” Logan’s eyes shown with simmering anger even from behind the mask. “Feel free to try your luck with those bombs out there. They’re a hell of a lot nicer than I’m gonna be if you don’t keep your yap shut.”

Marie had enough. “Alright, stop it you two! I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people fight like cats and dogs so quickly in my entire god damn life!” Her heated glare turned on him, making his lips part, a come-back on his tongue, but before any words came out, she shook her head gravely. Like a dog that had been berated by his owner, he turned away. “Logan, start driving before I sit in your lap and drive this thing for you!”

Slowly, the tires began to roll.

“Whatever,” Anita finally said. “I’m tired from holding Lizzy and running for nearly three miles so just wake me up when we get wherever we’re going.”

Marie thought she was insane for even considering sleep at that moment.

“Or I won't,” Logan said under his breath, clearly still irritated by the girl. Marie struggled to stay still, sitting and basically bathing in the tension between the two. 

Anita closed her eyes. “I wasn't talking to you, asshole.” 

“Can we please focus on the fact that there are bombs and crazy people everywhere? Bad enough doesn't need to become worst.” She looked between the two of them, her eyes finally settling on Logan who was gripping the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white. She leant closer to him, softly whispering, “thank you for doing this, Logan. And for helping me earlier.”  

Logan’s eyes slid from the road to her own, subconsciously traveling from her eyes to where he knew her lips were hidden, then back. “I already told you, kid,” one of his hands fell from the steering wheel, grasping hers and sliding his fingers in between her own. She couldn’t decide if it was the most comfortable thing in the world or the most nerve-wracking. “There was no other option.”  Marie smiled up at him, getting a firmer hold of his hand before leaning her head against his shoulder and looking out the windshield as more bombs exploded in the distance, shaking the ground beneath them.  

Only a few more minutes passed when a several dozen people came running through the road, several of them hitting their car before continuing on. “What-” 

Even more people came through, but this time, there were no screams that came with them. There were just low groans. They spotted the moving car and headed straight for them, like predators seeking out their prey. 

In a quiet voice, Lizzy whispered to Anita, “I'm scared.” And as much as she didn't want to admit it, she was too. 

“Uh, Logan,” Marie said, pulling her hand from his. 

“I know,” he responded, hovering a foot on the gas and gripping both hand on the steering wheel in preparation. 

The people weren't moving out of the way, and their car was crawling closer. “Uh, Logan!” Marie tried again. 

“God dammit, Marie. I know!” He yelled, staring straight ahead of him. There was no where else for him to go. One look in the rearview mirror let him know there were more people gathering in the road behind them.

Before Logan could make contact with any of the people in the street ahead of him, another vehical going perpendicular to them flew by, throwing the small crowd out of the way.

Anita covered Lizzy’s eyes from the gore, blood splattering their windshield as if someone had just drove through a puddle of it. Marie covered her mouth, trying to keep herself from vomiting all over the inside of the car.

Logan, on the other hand, seemed unphased. “They would have tried to attack us,” he reminded her, accelerating once more as soon as the road had cleared.

Marie only nodded, trying her best to believe his words.

Soon, what was left of the buildings around them began to grow sparse until the hills in the distance were visible and illuminated by the firey background. Marie felt the car pick up more speed.

“ _Maybe_  we should slow down.” Anita said, and Marie nodded in agreement. Logan huffed, looking over at her before gripping his hands on the wheel tighter. She turned to him, giving him a gentle smile that she knew he couldn’t see underneath the mask. He was stressed. They all were. His eyes matched hers, and she saw his hands slowly relax up on the steering wheel. They felt the pace of the car go down a little, and Logan expired, then rubbed his forehead above the thick rubber. 

The blood on the windshield was almost gone, and she was just trying to breathe in the heavy hostility. 

They were safe. For now. 

“Way to almost get us killed, grandpa.” Marie felt the strain of Logan’s body before his face showed it, but by then, she had enough too. 

Marie turned her head sharply, left hand landing on Logan’s thigh comfortingly. “Stop it. I don’t know why you’re being so rude, but Logan just kept us from being attacked.” A warm hand squeezed her own, once again intertwining long fingers into tiny ones. She wished she could see his face. “He’s the only person I have left.” She didn’t like that she knew there was pity on Anita’s face. “And I know he’d do anything to keep me-keep  _us_ safe.” She actually wasn’t so sure he’d do anything to keep Anita safe, but she did know he’d try. 

When she turned back around, something in Logan’s eyes had changed. She couldn’t quite place it, but it warmed her insides like liquid gold. If this wasn’t the completely wrong time and place in every sense, she’d have questioned him about it.  

After what felt like hours of driving, Logan pulled over onto a desolate dirt road far enough to where if anyone had been driving along the main road, they wouldn’t be visible.  

“We’re going to stop here for the night,” he told them, putting the car in park. 

Anita shook her head, leaning forward and slamming her hand down on the dash. “What the hell do you mean we’re stopping? We’re not far enough away from it yet! We’re going to get blown up!” At Marie’s glare and Lizzy’s whimpers, Anita steadied her breathing. “Look, I’m sorry I’ve been a bitch. I’m under a lot of stress. We all are. But, I think we need to keep going.” 

Logan didn’t bother with a response, opening his door and stepping away from the car. “Hey kid, come here,” he called back. 

“He knows what he’s doing, okay?” Marie said reassuringly to Anita, her hand soothing Lizzy’s trembling back. After she felt like the little girl’s body was no longer shaking like she was going to erupt, she turned her head. “Coming!” She climbed quickly from the vehicle, making her way to Logan. From behind, she saw the shirt he wore pulled across his shoulders like the strings of a newly tuned guitar, poised and ready to strike if anything happens. She wanted to run her hands down his back, telling him it was okay. They were safe now. 

But, she’d be guessing and he’d know it.  

They could die any day.  

Any hour. 

Any moment. 

“A little closer, kid. I won’t bite,” he said, and when she let her eyes shift from his taut muscle, she found his. Burning embarrassment licked her cheeks, but she ignored it knowing her flamed skin was hidden behind the mask as she moved in beside him. 

When she looked out at the distance where his eyes were, she thought he was wanting her to see the scenery. It was cute, almost uncharacteristically so. But hey, maybe Logan was a romantic at heart and she just didn’t realize it? Maybe this… war? Attack? She wasn’t sure, but maybe it was allowing him to open up further than before with her. “It’sbeautiful.” 

That got her a weird look. “Didn’t realize you hate your college that much,” he responded, head cocked and looking at her like she’d just wiped snot on the ground. What the hell? 

“Excuse me?” 

Logan sighed dramatically, then stepped in closer to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. “That,” he said, lifting his hand and pointing into the distance just over a large hill, “is where your college is.” Marie squinted her eyes, trying to get a better look. She could just barely see the grey waves in the sky. “Looks like they carpet bombed the area,” he grumbled, the noise vibrating her back. 

“What are we going to do?” It left her lips in the form of a whine, something she tried never to do. Especially with Logan. However, instead of the disapproving retort she expected, she found herself being pulled tighter against his chest. The mask was killing the sweet action a little, the buckle on the back of her head making it a little awkward, but she didn’t care that much.  

One hand wrapped around to land on a shoulder while the other held snug against her waist. She covered both of his with her own. “I have a plan.” 

“You always do,” she said, this time with a hint of playfulness. The squeeze on her side was his response. “We’re staying here for the night?”  

“Yeah. We’ll leave as soon as we get some sleep and the air has had some time to clear up.” Logan shifted away from her, turning around to walk back to the dirty police car. Marie took one last look at the chalky sky, then followed. 

Later that night, Anita and Lizzy slept in the backseat. Their situation looked uncomfortable, Lizzy in Anita’s lap and her leg swung over the other side of the seat, but their light breathing let Marie know it had been enough to allow them to drift off.  

She and Logan weren’t so lucky. The front seats were more comfortable than the back, definitely. The black leather pliant beneath them, molding to their forms and offering a comfort that seemed new and unfamiliar considering the events of the day. However, any time Marie closed her eyes, she saw her house exploding. If she kept them closed for too long, her mother’s face would explode too, shooting pieces of mangled flesh around her in some sort of gory fireworks show. Her stomach was edging the line of nauseas, hand readied to open the door and vomit at any time. 

She heard the first rain drop as soon as the first tear slid down her cheek.

Her gas mask was fogged up with tears when she felt a warm calloused hand envelope her thigh, their heavy breathing drowned by the thick splashes of rain on the car. She knew it was Logan but didn’t have it in her to look at him. Her heart was breaking into a million pieces over and over again, like a record on repeat. In her ears, she heard the sounds of bombs killing her mother, a high pitched scream shrieking and shaking her brain. Marie didn’t want to let Logan know about that, couldn’t fathom the pity she would see in the eyes that usually showed her such affection. 

So she remained quiet on her side of the car, minus the occasional whimper. And Logan remained quiet on his, except for the occasional, “I know, kid.” 

Neither of them got much sleep. 

**…**

The next afternoon, they were back on the road. Anita and Lizzy stayed in the back, mainly at Marie’s request. After what had happened when they were driving before, she wanted to make sure everyone was wearing their seatbelt.  

Somehow in the last twelve hours, it had become a regular occurrence for Logan’s hand to sneak into hers. Despite the fact that she knew he was only doing it to comfort her, she liked to allow herself to pretend that somewhere deep inside of him, it was about something more. This time though, it had been more for his comfort. Anita had been yelling in the back seat about how Lizzy needed food and water, and Marie was well accustomed to the tension growing in Logan’s body by that point. She slithered her fingers right in between his, gripping it with conviction. After that, Logan calmed down and let them all know they would be able to eat soon. 

She left her hand wrapped in his and stared out the windshield. “Where are we going?” 

Logan’s thumb ran gently across her wrist, soothing her effortlessly. She was by no means calm. By no means content or happy. However, she was coping. And that was something. 

“The diner,” he told her quietly, knowing she’d know which one he meant. They had been there a few times since that night after her graduation, just casual lunch or dinner. But, by the sound of his voice, Marie had a feeling he may have went there more often than she knew. “They have a cellar out back stocked with food and water. The place even has a generator.” At the questioning turns of heads he received, he remembered that these were still just kids. “I’m sure they’re going to cut the electricity soon. Wartime blackout so the enemy can’t see where everyone is.” 

No one spoke as they drove the rest of the distance to the diner. Marie realized that he must have gotten pretty far before he realized it was a good place to go since the diner was usually only a thirty to forty-five minute drive through the forest from her house. She couldn’t disagree with him, however. The diner was all on it’s own and she guessed that no one else would think to go there. If it was still there, of course.

Around two hours later, Marie’s eyes caught the shiny exterior of the diners glare, unable to keep from straightening her back to see if it was all still there.

They pulled into the parking lot of the small, 1950s style building. Marie found it ironic that it was built to resemble the time of peak Nuclear Warfare, but didn’t want to think on it long. There were no other cars around, the building itself looking rather empty. It was on its own plot of land, a safe distance from all the other buildings that could be seen burning in the distance.  

Still, they had to remember that bombs weren’t the only thing working against them. That chemical was still in the air, and anyone who breathed it in was likely affected.  

Logan pulled the car up right to the chrome front, stopping and lifting a hand. “Stay here. I’ll get out and go make sure everything’s safe.” Luckily, his command was met with little to no resistance-the exception being a worried looking Marie. What if something happened to him? What if she lost him? What if he was taken from her just like her mother was?  

“Logan-“ her voice broke off when she felt warm lips against her sweaty scalp. It took her a moment to realize what exactly was wrong with that. “Your mask!” 

Logan stared down at her, and this time she could actually see his expression. “It’s vapor. If you leave the area and remain upwind, you’ll be fine,” he informed them. Kindness wasn’t Logan’s strong suit, but when he saw Marie’s eyes drop to the seat she was in- a tale tail sign that she was embarrassed- he softened his tone. “I learned it when I was younger.” Marie smiled back up at him, successfully making his train of thought derail. He stared at her for a little while, and when he realized that was strange, he moved away from the car and looked around. “Let’s just hope it’s not biological.” 

“Why?” The voice that asked was an annoying one to Logan’s ears, but the question in and of itself wasn’t, so he opened up one of the backdoors and answered. 

“Because if it’s biological, it can be spread through others. Animals, people, blood, water.” Logan bent over, looking at Anita curled up in the car with her sister. “How do you think the plague happened, cupcake?” 

Marie scooted over and out of the car then, removing her mask with a bit of reluctance. But once it was gone, she sucked in a deep breath. After a few moments of enjoying the fresh air, she glanced at him. He was standing beside her, eyes filled with something that didn’t quite resemble pity.  

Sympathy, perhaps? 

“Kid-“ 

Marie held her hand up, cutting him off. “Not yet, Logan. I can’t do it right now.” 

**_…_**  

**__**

##  **_Logan_ **

 

He nodded his head slowly, staring at Marie for a second longer before turning back around and examining the building. It hurt like hell to see her that way. Seeing her the night before in the seat beside him crying and shuddering; that was more lethal than any bomb. She was all broken up but unable to show it, at least not until they got somewhere safe. He was going to get her somewhere safe. “I don’t see anyone here. Let’s go check out the cellar.” When he looked back at the car, he saw the two girls lingering inside. “Come on, let’s see if we can find shortstack there some food.” 

Anita and Lizzy slowly moved from inside the car, Anita stepping out first while eyeing Logan and Marie wearily. “You sure you two feel okay?” 

Logan shrugged, “only a little irritated, but I’m sure that has nothing to do with the air.” The glint in his eye had Anita huffing loudly, Lizzy merely giggling.  

“We feel fine, Anita.” Marie supplied, giving the girl before her a dazzling smile. Surprisingly, Anita trusted her quickly. She pulled off her mask, motioning for her sister to wait a moment, and when it was gone, she only had eyes for Marie. If he was being honest, he had been more afraid of her somehow developing a crush on him, but after the way she watched Marie, who was still offering up her sweetest smile (although not quite the one she offered to him), it was clear he wasn’t the one who should be worried. 

“Okay, Liz. Go ahead and take it off,” she told her, glancing away from Marie to make sure her sister was listening. When the little girls face was revealed, Logan knew he had been right about her age. The kid couldn’t be older than seven or eight.  

Logan stepped away then, heading around the back while looking behind him to make sure everyone stayed close. “Consuela let me in here a few times to get me to help her carry stuff out.” 

“You came here often?” Marie questioned, watching the way his shoulders moved smoothly with each step. 

Logan looked back at her, the corner of his mouth tilted up slightly. “Not too often.”  _Not too often without you,_  was what they both knew he meant. “But I did come here when I needed to vent. She kind of just… Understood.” Okay, that was broad. But how else was he supposed to explain that the reason he came to the woman and her sanctuary of a diner was because the next time he and Marie had come, she had made it clear she thought they would be a cute couple, much to his chagrin. And then when he had stopped by on his way home to get something for him and Marie to eat a few weeks later, she brought her up.  

‘ _Swept her off her feet yet,_ _guapo_ _?’_ she had asked.  

_‘Mind your own business,_ _vieja_ _,’_ he had responded.  

The next time he came in, he’d somehow ended up telling her how he felt like a dirty old man for caring for Marie, to which she had only smiled and shook her head saying,  _‘One day, you’re going to realize what an_ _idiota_ _you’ve been. When they day comes, I’m expecting recognition at the wedding.’_  

Sadness creeped up on him as they rounded on the door of the cellar; he sure would miss that crazy bitch.  

He looked at the padlock on the cellar, hands reaching as he chanted the combination in his head. 

“I was wondering if you’d make it, guapo.” 


End file.
